


Backlight

by xaandiir



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Also many insecurities, Insecurities out the wazoo, M/M, Slow Burn, Theatre AU, There will be massive amounts of angst, With some fluff sprinkled in for your dietary needs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-09-25 10:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9816041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xaandiir/pseuds/xaandiir
Summary: Alexander Hamilton spent the last decade of his life perfecting Miranda, a musical surrounding the life of Lin-Manuel Miranda, that will be hitting Broadway in just a week. Everything is perfect; or so Alexander thinks. One actor is proving to be a bit of a handful and Alexander can’t figure out how to deal with him.





	1. To Begin Reaching

**Author's Note:**

> Get ready for a very long slow-burn fic with Feelings™.

_His panic grew. And it grew. It was a black blob that was consuming him. It dripped down his throat and filled his lungs. He couldn’t get a breath in against the sludge that he was drowning in. It spread around his legs and he was sinking deeper, being strangled by it all the while. When he tried to escape it only latched on harder and dragged him deeper._

_It was pointless. There was no way that he could possibly escape from this. As he went limp and allowed the mess to consume him, he reached out a hand, like a last effort. He reached as far as he could reach, staring at the last source of life before the blackness encased his vision, and even then, he continued reaching._

* * *

Alexander Hamilton opened his eyes and was met with the low ceiling of his apartment. He blinked slowly, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes without actually touching his face. His arm was slung over his head at an awkward angle and when he tried to move it, it felt heavy and numb. Alexander let out a quiet groan as he realized that it had fallen asleep. He reached with his other hand and pulled it back and dropped it onto his chest. The limb bounced against his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs and jolting him even more awake.

Nights had been late for Alexander over the past week. Staying up late into the night typing away on his computer, falling asleep at his desk only to wake up again an hour later and force himself to drag his way over to his bed, hadn’t made for a healthy sleep schedule. And yet it was what Alexander continued to do. Each night his mind would be overtaken with ideas and words that he couldn’t help but get written down as soon as possible, for fear that he would forget them by morning. He thought that by now, the words would have stopped, but they seemed louder than ever. This prose and desire to write stayed within him during the day as well, but he always had a notebook and pen close by, allowing him to scribble whatever came to mind. At night, however, the words refused to cease and he would be left tossing and turning in his bed, the words itching to be written down, for fear of being lost in the void of his own mind.

Now sunlight streamed in from the window’s blinds and Alexander remained lying on his bed, trying to work up the energy to sit up and continue about his day. His arm was getting quite tingly and he was a bit anxious to attempt to move it, though he knew that it was important that he did.

Finally, the hunger in the pit of his stomach got the better of him and he finally sat up. His arm screamed out in retaliation, but Alexander did his best to ignore it as he instead stood up and headed into the kitchen to make himself some breakfast.

Alexander’s mornings were often the same. He always woke up at a later hour than he would wish, make food, groom himself so he was at least partially presentable that day, and then head out to complete whatever daily errands he had. Oh, and then there was the matter of his job.

Music, words, and rhythm had come easily to Alexander ever since he was little. He wrote small poems, made up stories, and sang made up tunes on the way home from school. His mother was the one who taught him a scale. Although they were always too poor to afford a piano, her voice was always finely attuned. She showed him how to write despite not being very literate herself, and she made sure to get him into school. When his mother died, his drive to sing and write only grew tenfold.

Alexander grew older. He took odd jobs, bounced around in the system, jumping from foster family to foster family until he was eighteen and found himself in New York City, a small savings account under his name, a small desire to go to university, but an even bigger desire to make something that would last long after he died. He wanted to make something that would be his legacy.

And he may have done just that.

The trip to the theatre wasn’t long by bus and Hamilton just kept his nose stuffed in his notebook, scribbling down song lyrics that came to mind, verses of poetry, and some long rambles about the mess that was the American government. The ride was over in no time and Hamilton hopped off the bus and looked up at the theatre.

It was a large, gorgeous building that dwarfed the others surrounding it. Every time Alexander saw it, he got chills, even after visiting the theatre every day for the past year and a half. The neon words glittered, even in the daytime, and Alexander’s heart fluttered whenever he saw MIRANDA displayed overhead. Miranda. His musical. _Alexander Hamilton’s_ musical that he wrote, directed, and was now starring in. It was a dream. A dream that he still had yet to wake up from, and Alexander could not be happier.

It had taken ten years of his life to write the musical, and now it was being shown on Broadway. Alexander had written shorter plays, a less popular musical, and a few one acts in his lifetime. It was the only reason he was able to get Miranda on Broadway now. But he loved this one. He had put his very soul into writing it, directing it had been a blast, and he had even played a part in getting some of his friends casted into a few of the roles. They had the talent, of course, so it wasn’t as though Alexander had cast them simply because of their connection with him. Alexander wasn’t _that_ shallow.

He walked into the theatre, breathing in deeply. The faint scent of old wood, sweat, and dust filled his lungs and Alexander exhaled happily. The theatre always smelled so authentic, and it helped Alexander to calm down a bit as he entered the house and approached the main stage. They only had a week of rehearsals left before opening night, and while Alexander couldn’t be more excited, he was also growing anxious at the thought of an audience seeing Miranda for the first time. Miranda was his baby, and the last thing he wanted was for his baby to be judged.

There was already a collection of people on stage, doing stretches and warming up their voices. They were going to run through the show once without blocking, costumes, or lighting; everyone would sit in a big circle with prerecorded music at the ready, and run through the lines and songs. That way everyone could be properly warmed up. Then they would go through an actual dress rehearsal and work out the kinks in the show.

Alexander took in those that were already present. There was John Laurens (Alexander’s closest friend), who was talking with Lafayette (Broadway’s Frenchiest fry) and Hercules (who needs no introduction). Eliza Schuyler was talking with her sisters, Angelica and Peggy, and all three were beautiful women who lit up the theatre as brilliantly as the stage lights did. Aaron Burr was standing towards the back of the stage, practicing his vocal exercises while scrolling through something on his phone; most likely a news article, although he never admitted what news outlet he used the most. Lafayette had his bets on Snapchat as Burr’s primary source of news feed. Alexander knew that a few other faces, like Phillip, would show up later. Phillip had to attend school and then he came to the theatre after school for rehearsals. Alexander knew that someone was missing, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on—

“Hamilton,” Jefferson muttered as he passed. His shoulder pushed against Alexander, causing the latter to stumble a bit. Alexander glared at Jefferson, but if he noticed, he didn’t make any sign of it.

Yes, Thomas Jefferson. The insufferable man whose only reason of living seemed to be to aggravate Alexander. Every day he seemed to have a new snarky comment up his sleeve, but luckily Alexander did as well. They’d fight over every topic imaginable, and that wasn’t any clearer than when it came to the show.

Alexander had grown up teaching himself about theatre. He participated in his high school’s theatre program, read about shows in magazines and online, listened to musical recordings online, and so on. He only got into professional theatre in his twenties, and even then, he had to climb his way up, step by step.

Jefferson, however, was raised on theatre. He lived and breathed it. His family had moved to New York when he was young and they had enough money to go see Broadway shows every month. Jefferson was groomed to be an actor, and it showed. He criticized every choice Alexander made when it came to directing, claiming that it didn’t match traditional theatre. To which Alexander would just tell Jefferson that Miranda is not a traditional show, in more or less choice words.

But Alexander was so tired today and he just didn’t want to have to deal with Jefferson or whatever it was that he was going to put him through. So, he didn’t say anything back and just walked up to the main stage, hopping up and dropping off his backpack of snacks, water, and libretto.

“Not even a word, Hamilton?” Jefferson asked with a raised eyebrow. “How unlike you. But it’s quite the welcome change.”

Alexander only rolled his eyes. He really didn’t have the energy to put up with Jefferson’s crap today, and he knew that it was going to be a long day regardless. With only a week before the show, Alexander couldn’t afford to let himself be distracted by an ass like Jefferson.

He stood and, without looking at Jefferson, approached John Laurens and his other two friends. As he approached, John let out a low whistle and threw an arm around Alexander’s neck.

“Look at you being the big man for once,” John teased, ruffling Alexander’s hair a little, which earned a laugh from him.

“It doesn’t take a very big man to beat someone who’s already dropped so low,” said Alexander.

Lafayette snickered and elbowed Hercules. “But hey, if someone as short as Alexander can somehow be bigger than Thomas then I must be a giant.” Hercules let out a bellowing laugh which only grew when Alexander tried to give Lafayette a kick in the shin “Ooh, a low blow from a small man!”

“If you make one more short joke, I’ll cut you from the show!” Alexander’s comment earned a round of condescending ‘ooooh’s from his friends.

“And what, let monsieur Jefferson take my place?” Lafayette asked with a raised eyebrow. “He may be my understudy, but you could never _actually_ stand him when he’s on stage.”

Hercules said, “Next time, try going for a threat you can actually fall through with.” John commended Hercules with a high five and Alexander felt himself physically deflate.

It was true that Alexander could never afford to cut Lafayette from the show. Jefferson had been cast as the understudy for Daveed because he was honestly a brilliant actor. But Alexander _could not_ work with him on stage. Alexander always felt like he was going to rip his hair out when Lafayette was out sick and Jefferson played the role alongside Alexander as Lin. Jefferson fought him on _everything_ , be it blocking, intonation, or an actor’s choice for dialogue. It was like Jefferson was attempting to be the director. And he was a _terrible_ director.

“Alex,” Aaron Burr said as he approached, “I think we should get started on rehearsals for today.”

“Phillip isn’t here,” John pointed out, glancing around the room.

Alexander shook his head. “He has school today, remember? The weekend is over. He’ll be here in time for dress rehearsal, but we’ll do the Circle Rehearsal now.” Alexander always liked that name. There was a certain cheery childishness that made Alexander smile. And it also always made Jefferson scowl with disgust, which was always a plus. “Alright everyone! Settle down for the Circle Rehearsal!” As he moved towards center stage, he heard Jefferson’s annoyed groan.

Alexander’s grin grew a little wider.

* * *

The Circle Rehearsal went well. Nobody required their libretto—and if they had, Alexander was certain he would have delved into an hour-long lecture about how unprepared they were, and that would have wasted _everyone’s_ time. They broke for an hour to have lunch and get ready for the dress rehearsal.

Alexander, per usual was writing away instead of eating lunch. He always got too distracted to eat a full meal, and as a result, he ended up just pecking away and nibbling at food here and there. He sat in the dressing room, a cookie hanging out of his mouth as he scribbled down a few verses to a song that he’d been quietly composing for the past day and a half. Most everyone had gone out for lunch so Alexander was completely alone in the dressing room, sitting on the counter as he tapped his pencil against the mirror, trying to find the right rhythm.

“One and-two and four,” Alexander muttered under his breath as he chewed the cookie, beating his pencil. “Or one and-two three four?”

Alexander had grown so engrossed in figuring out the rhythm that he didn’t notice someone standing in the doorway until they cleared their throat. Alexander jumped and dropped his pencil. His eyes landed on Jefferson, who was standing in the doorway for who knows how long.

“What are you doing here?” Alexander asked, hopping down from the counter to retrieve his pencil.

“I’m done with lunch so I came back to get ready for the dress rehearsal.” Jefferson entered the room, revealing that he’d already retrieved his costume: one of the ensemble costumes. “I assume that because your bestie is here, I’ll still be ensemble today?”

Alexander caught Jefferson giving him a dirty look out of the corner of his eye, but when Alexander turned to face him, Jefferson had already turned away. Doing his best to ignore the ‘bestie’ comment, he said, “The understudy rehearsal is tomorrow. You know that.”

“So I’m not allowed to want to do my job and fill in?”

“Your job is to be there when the principal can’t. Lafayette is here, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

As he got back onto the counter, Alexander heard Jefferson mutter something, but it was too quiet to make it out. He decided to just ignore it. Alexander didn’t want his mood soured.

Alexander had three more verses written by the time Jefferson finished changing into his costume. Alexander didn’t know if he just wrote quickly or if Jefferson honestly took that long to get dressed. The ensemble outfit honestly looked rather plain on Jefferson in comparison to the usual brightly colored suits he donned to the theatre every day. Alexander often wondered how many outfits Jefferson actually owned, since he seemed to have every color of the rainbow in his closet.

Jefferson began toying with his hair, fluffing it up, and generally messing with it. It was a bit mesmerizing to watch, as Alexander found himself staring at Jefferson for a full minute before he looked back down at his notes.

“Your hair is going to be distracting to the audience, you know,” Alexander muttered. “An ensemble member shouldn’t be drawing so much attention.”

Jefferson stiffened a bit and Alexander saw him turn towards him in his peripheral vision. Alexander kept his gaze planted firmly on the notebook, ignoring the red-hot glare that Jefferson was driving into him. Alexander’s heart picked up in speed and for once the words and verses were quiet in his head as his whole being waited anxiously for what Jefferson would do.

After a long moment of silence, and the standoff between them nearly became unbearable, Jefferson finally said, “Well as the principal, it’s your job to hold the audience’s attention. Surely you can figure out how to be more entertaining than my hair.”

Alexander didn’t look up until he heard Jefferson leave and slam the door shut. And even then, he waited a few more minutes, trying to calm his racing heart.

* * *

The dress rehearsal had been uneventful, which Alexander was grateful for. He would much rather have an uneventful rehearsal than one where things went wrong. He was feeling good about the show. In just six days, they would open the show on Broadway and, hopefully, his legacy would be sealed.

As he walked, Alexander realized that it as a rare moment where his mind was quiet. While he loved the constant stream of thoughts that filled his head every day, Alexander enjoyed the blissful moments of silence. It reminded him of simpler times, when he was younger and he would sit on his mother’s lap and listen to her sing as she rocked him gently. He really wished that his mother was alive to see him now. He often wondered what she would think of the show, and if she would be proud of him for making it this far with the hand life had dealt him. Alexander liked to believe that she would be.

When he managed to pull himself out of his thoughts, Alexander realized he had walked a couple streets too far while he had been distracted and was on one of the rare quiet blocks. Despite being the city that never sleeps, New York City occasionally had a little pocket of silence that seemed like a completely different world from every other part of the city.

He took a seat at the bus stop, figuring that he could afford a longer bus ride than having to walk all the way back to his usual stop. Alexander pulled out his notebook, ready to scribble down more of the thoughts that were creeping back into his head, when something caught his eye. He looked across the street and saw a familiar figure standing under a streetlamp. Jefferson was resting against the pole, a cigarette in his lips as he stared up at the sky, looking bored. There light from the lamp reflected off of his hair, giving an almost halo effect. It left Alexander mesmerized as he stared at Jefferson. It was so weird to see him not wearing his bright, condescending smirk. Alexander had grown to think that it was just a permanent part of his face, but Jefferson seemed quiet and kind of subdued in the dark now.

The bus could be heard approaching and Jefferson glanced over at the sound, catching Alexander’s eyes. Alexander remained frozen, as though if he didn’t move, he wouldn’t be seen. Jefferson’s eyes remained on Alexander, his expression hard as he withdrew the cigarette and flicked it into the street.

With a loud creak from the brakes, the bus came to a half in front of Hamilton, obscuring his vision. The doors opened and Alexander hurried on, flashing his bus pass to the driver. When he looked out the window to try and catch another glimpse of Jefferson, he found that he was gone.


	2. A God Among Men

_He was beautiful. Ethereal. A god amongst mere mortals and he chose to bestow his beauty upon him, a mere man. When the god stepped close, the man felt his breath being drawn away, slowly being used up by the god as he spoke. His words, like lyrics, flowed off of his tongue and filled the mortal’s ears with his sweet song. He never wanted to leave._

_But he knew that he must. As he drew away, the god reached out. His hand stroked the man’s cheek, gently, drawing him back in. The man whispered that he had to leave, but the god only smiled. His thumb ran gently over his cheek once more and he asked the mortal to stay. Unable to resist, the man admitted that he could stay for a few minutes more. Just a few minutes…_

* * *

Alexander was late. How he managed to stay up until five in the morning and then sleep in an extra hour was beyond him, as usually sleep avoided him like the plague, but sure enough he’d woken up to a phone call from John asking him where he was. That was when Alexander realized the time.

He had hopped out of bed, gotten dressed, and was out the door in record time. It wasn’t until he’d sprinted to the bus stop that he realized he’d not only forgotten his bag of snacks and water, but he also left his notebook. Alexander essentially had nothing on him, and that included his bus pass. The buses already took long enough to navigate through New York City traffic, and if Alexander went back to grab his stuff, then he’d have to wait even longer for the next bus to arrive. He’d be another half hour late, and Alexander knew that Burr would be pissed at him for making them all wait until he got there.

He could see the bus approaching now.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Alexander muttered under his breath, running a hand through his tangled hair. He was just beginning to debate if he should just walk to the theatre to save time when he heard someone call his name. He looked up and found himself face-to-face with Jefferson.

Jefferson held his gaze for a long moment before he said, “You look pretty shitty.”

“Well good morning to you too,” Alexander muttered. He knew that Jefferson usually showed up right before practice, but he didn’t realize that he also took the same bus route that Alexander did. Did he live nearby or something? “Look, Jefferson, I don’t have time for this. I don’t have my bus pass and I don’t have exact change for the fare so I have to just walk to the theatre and I need to move fast if I’m going to—”

“I am _not_ letting you hold up rehearsals because you’re being stupid.” Jefferson withdrew his wallet and pulled out a couple of bills and quarters just as the bus came to a halt before them. “I’ll pay for your fare.”

Alexander glared and straightened up, trying to gain some height but Jefferson still towered over him. “I don’t want your charity!”

“It’s not charity. It’s making sure that nobody’s time is wasted. Especially _mine_. If you’re going to be late the week before we open, then it will put everyone on edge. Now just get on the damn bus.”

Alexander didn’t have much choice, so he stepped onto the bus behind Jefferson. He flashed the bus driver his pass and then also handed him Alexander’s fare. Alexander stuck close to him as they walked down the aisle Jefferson took an open seat near the back, and because Alexander was still exhausted and there weren’t many other open seats, he was forced to sit beside him.

Jefferson stared at the window, his jaw tight and expression neutral. It was always like that, Alexander thought with irritation. Always the neutral face. If it wasn’t that, then it was the petty smirk. There was never an in-between for him and looking at him now with that familiar face left Alexander feeling like a hot weight had just been placed in his stomach.

“I’d appreciate it if you would stop staring at me,” Jefferson said, glancing back out of the corner of his eye. Alexander immediately turned his head away, his expression twisted with frustration. He could feel Jefferson’s gaze linger on him before he added, “Why do you look so terrible, anyway?”

“I woke up late.”

That earned a snort from Jefferson but when Alexander whipped his head back to glare, Jefferson had already turned back to the window. “Did you sleep through your alarm or something?”

“I don’t set alarms.”

“What? How do you ever expect to wake up on time then?”

“I normally don’t sleep much.”

Somehow that seemed to catch Jefferson’s interest, as he turned his head and their eyes met for the first time since they entered the bus together. “How much do you sleep, exactly?”

“It depends. Usually four hours? Maybe five?”

“You cannot live on that little sleep when you’re also the lead actor in a musical about to hit Broadway, Hamilton.”

“Well I have and I _will_.” Alexander crossed his arms. “I’ve survived for the past year with that amount of sleep, give or take, so I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Jefferson let out a short laugh and shook his head, this time fully turning away from Alexander as he looked out the window once more. “I wasn’t worrying about you.”

* * *

“Sorry I’m late!” Alexander called as he rushed into the house of the theatre. Jefferson was behind him, taking his time in walking in.

Burr, who was seated on the apron of the main stage, scrolling through his phone as usual, glanced up. “You’re actually two minutes early. Congratulations on not making us wait for you.”

“I knew something was up when you weren’t here by the time Hercules showed up,” John called with a snicker as he elbowed Hercules a bit in the side. Hercules retaliated by wrapping an arm gently around John’s neck and trying to wrestle him to the ground. Lafayette was quick to break them up before it turned into a full round of roughhousing and they ended up kicking a hole into one of the flats. Everyone had learned their lesson about that a week ago.

Jefferson passed Alexander and began to head towards the dressing rooms. “Can we skip the ‘Circle Rehearsal’ today, Hamilton? We all know our lines. Let’s just get on with the _actual_ show.”

Alexander shook his head. “We can’t perform without Phillip here! That’s why we have the Circle Rehearsal in the first place!”

“But I am here!” a small voice said. Alexander turned to see that the eleven-year-old was, in fact, present, and he was standing with Eliza near the stairs on the set.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you have school?” Alexander asked as he hauled himself up onto the stage.

“School was cancelled today so I came here!” Phillip grinned brightly. “I didn’t want to miss everything like I always do.”

Alexander smiled and ruffled Phillip’s hair a bit, earning a giggle from the boy. “Just don’t work yourself too hard. I know you always put in that extra effort.”

“Yes, don’t learn from Alexander,” Angelica said as she approached the group. “He’s a terrible role model.” Phillip laughed at the scandalized look Alexander gave Angelica.

“I am a fantastic role model.”

Angelica raised an eyebrow. “For who? You have no sleeping schedule, you don’t eat full meals, and _we_ have to remind _you_ to stay hydrated during rehearsals. You have no self-control, you talk too highly of yourself…there’s something else…”

“Oh, go easy on him, Angelica,” Eliza laughed. Alexander smirked triumphantly, glad to have at least one of the Schuyler sisters on his side.

Eliza Schuyler…what a beauty. Alexander felt blessed to be able to have her in his life, and even more so to have her as a lead in his show. He was pretty sure that he would have attempted to date her, if it weren’t for him being so busy with the show. In fact, for the past several years, Alexander’s dating life had been almost nonexistent, instead replaced with late nights on his computer, early mornings with his notebook, and lots and _lots_ of coffee.

“I think you’re a great role model Mr. Hamilton,” Phillip said, looking up at Alexander with a big, naïve grin. Alexander laughed softly and knelt down so he was on Phillip’s level.

“I’m afraid that Angelica is actually right on this one,” Alexander said. “Don’t be like me, Phillip. Be like Eliza or either of her sisters. They’re _much_ better than I will ever be.”

“Self-deprecation!” Angelica cried with a snap of her fingers. “That’s also what makes you a terrible role model.”

Alexander smirked as he quickly rose to his feet. “So I both think highly of myself and think very little of myself? I guess a contradictory personality also throws me out for role model consideration?”

“Of course.” Angelica met his smirk with an equally challenging grin. They held one another’s gaze for a moment before a sharp whistle from across the room broke their attention.

“Get a room!” Peggy called, dropping her fingers from her mouth.

Lafayette, who Peggy had her arm wrapped around, snickered and nodded in agreement. “Not in front of the children, _mon ami_! You’ll put ideas in his head!”

Angelica quickly stormed over, scolding Peggy softly, to which the pair only laughed. Alexander swore that her cheeks were red, but his attention was snagged away before he could come to a conclusion.

“Hey Alexander, James just texted me,” Aaron called. He still hadn’t moved from his spot on the apron. “He’s out sick again today and can’t make it to play Oak.”

“Oh, Maria’s not coming either,” Peggy added suddenly. “She called me last night. Apparently, what she got for dinner after rehearsals gave her food poisoning. She’s been ill all day.”

Alexander frowned. That didn’t sound good at all. “What about her husband?”

“Also sick. They had dinner together. Our father is here, though, so he can play the part like usual.”

Alexander put a hand to his chin, thinking for a moment. “Is Jefferson the only understudy here?” The others glanced around, looking at who was present. It seemed that that was indeed the case. “Of all the ironic things to happen…Well, alright. It won’t do any good to have just one understudy during the understudy rehearsal. We’ll just have to move it to tomorrow.”

“Excuse me?” Jefferson yelled. Everyone turned to see that he had finished changing and just entered the room. And he certainly didn’t look happy with the news. “It’s the understudy rehearsal _today_.”

“Yeah, and you’re the only understudy here. It wouldn’t be beneficial to have you sub in for Daveed today.”

“And why the hell not?”

Alexander frowned at Jefferson’s behavior. Why was he making such a big deal out of this? “Because these aren’t the people you’re going to be performing with on understudy nights.”

“So? Lafayette could get sick one day!”

Lafayette didn’t seem convinced as he called out, “I’m not going to get sick!” That only seemed to anger Jefferson more as he turned back to Alexander.

“You promised me that today was going to be an understudy rehearsal!”

“Yes, and now I’m retracting my promise and insisting that it will be moved to _tomorrow_. Chill out, Jefferson.”

Jefferson, however, looked anything but chilled out. He was practically fuming as he stared at Alexander. It was a long, chilling moment before Jefferson finally said in a voice that sounded borderline threatening, “You’re going to let me be Daveed today.”

“No.” Alexander spoke before his thoughts could catch up with his mouth. That seemed to happen a lot around Jefferson. “Lafayette is. You’ll be Daveed tomorrow.” Was it just Alexander, or was the room suddenly getting extremely warm? “You should go change, Jefferson.”

As though to prove a point, Jefferson stepped closer, so he was looming over Alexander. Alexander suddenly felt very small, like a child who was just caught breaking a vase. However, his gaze didn’t falter from Jefferson’s, no matter how uneasy it made him.

“Go,” Alexander said. His voice sounded tiny in his ears, but it seemed to do the trick, since Jefferson turned away and left the room. Once Jefferson was out of the room, Alexander let out a breath and had to sit down for a second.

“What an ass,” John spat, glaring at the door Jefferson left through. Phillip gasped sharply and clapped a hand over his mouth. John, realizing his mistake, quickly said, “No no, I said _bass!_ Like the fish!”

While John was attempting to explain the usefulness of using ‘bass’ as an insult and Angelica glared daggers into him, Alexander took a seat beside Aaron, who didn’t seem bothered at all by the recent commotion.

“What are you looking at?” Alexander asked, craning his neck to see what site Aaron was on, but Aaron quickly shut off his phone before Alexander could get a clear look.

“Nothing,” Aaron replied. Before Alexander could interrogate him further, a door slammed open and Jefferson entered again. He was dressed in his regular clothes and made a straight beeline for the exit. Alexander quickly rose to his feet.

“Jefferson, where are you going?!” Alexander yelled as he watched the Virginian storm towards the door. “You still have a part as ensemble!”

“Well then, just consider me sick today, like all the others! No one will miss _one_ backup dancer!”

Just before Jefferson slammed the door behind him, Phillip yelled, “Don’t be such a bass!!” John snorted and Angelica gave him a firm slap on the arm.

* * *

Alexander waved at the other actors as he left the theatre. He was normally the last one to leave, but he decided that he wanted to leave early that day. He wasn’t even sure why until he began walking in the opposite direction of his apartment. Alexander suddenly realized where he was going: the bus stop he used the night before, after rehearsals.

He knew that there was no way that Jefferson would be there. He left hours ago. Alexander didn’t even understand why he wanted to see Jefferson again, either. He had acted like a complete jerk. Just because he paid for his bus fare didn’t mean that they were suddenly buddies.

“Why did he freak out so badly?” Alexander muttered to himself. “I just moved the rehearsal over one day. It’s not like I postponed it for a month or something, or cancelled it completely. So why?”

But Alexander didn’t have an answer, and neither did the quiet street of New York. Alexander arrived at the bus stop, and it was as deserted as it was the night before. There was no Jefferson in sight, either. Of course there wouldn’t be. He was already at home, doing whatever he did with his free time, and Alexander was here standing at a bus stop waiting for a bus that he couldn’t afford.

“Why did I come here?” Alexander muttered as he headed back in the correct direction, towards his apartment. But the quiet night didn’t have an answer for that either.


	3. A Flower's Shadow

_Two flowers grew side by side. One flower grew faster than the other, soon towering over it. Despite the clear difference in growth, the smaller flower still offered ways that the other flower could grow. Face more towards the sun, it told the larger flower. Make sure you get enough rain water; don’t get caught in any shadows. But the more it told the flower, the more the larger flower began to wilt, and the smaller flower soon overtook it as it grew larger and the former bent closer and closer the ground._

_What are you doing? asked the now-larger flower. You aren’t doing as I say! Face towards the sun; get some water! And stay out of the shadows! Stay out of them! But the wilting flower didn’t move, and it no longer received any sun, as it was now hidden in the shadow of the flower that was once so small._

* * *

“Hurry up, let’s get a move on,” Jefferson groaned. Alexander rolled his eyes as he walked past him. Jefferson was already decked out in his Daveed costume and not everyone had even arrived yet. Alexander wasn’t even sure how many of the understudies were going to actually show up today, but if he moved the understudy rehearsal again, he was pretty sure Jefferson would _actually_ murder him.

“Has anyone seen James?” Alexander asked to no one in particular. He wasn’t even in his costume yet, and he knew that it was because, on some unconscious level, he wanted to piss Jefferson off a little more and make him squirm. They usually started a little late with rehearsals, but whenever Jefferson got the chance to be Daveed, he wanted to start right on the dot. Not that Alexander ever let that happen, of course.

Maria Reynolds stepped out of her dressing room. She was hopping on one foot, still strapping her heels onto her feet. “My husband’s getting changed, Alexander. You saw him when we came in together.”

“No, no, not him. Madison.” Alexander looked back at Jefferson, who was standing in the doorway to the men’s dressing room, giving some kind of pep talk (or maybe he was just telling them to get changed faster). “Jefferson, have you heard from James Madison?”

Jefferson looked back midsentence, a word balancing precariously on his tongue before he swallowed it back. “He said he would be here.”

“And when did he say that?”

“When I texted him.”

“And when was _that?_ ”

Jefferson sighed and turned away. “Last night.”

Alexander had to bite back a sigh. It was like Jefferson was trying to run him to the end of his rope. “Well can you please call him and find out where he is? Because we are not going to start without him.”

That seemed to get Jefferson moving, at least. Threatening to postpone rehearsals really did the trick. Jefferson took out his phone and stepped out to call Madison. Alexander took the opportunity to pop into the dressing room. “Is everyone thoroughly annoyed after Jefferson’s speech?” he asked.

Aaron glanced at Alexander in the mirror while he was adjusting his tie. “Does it really matter?”

“Maybe we can threaten to cut him from the show to keep him from babbling,” John said, a grin forming on his face. He was already dressed and was just chilling on the counter, waiting for the call that rehearsals were starting. “That ought to shut him up, right?”

James Reynolds laughed. “You can’t just cut him from the show. On the off chance that Lafayette actually does get sick, or he breaks a leg _literally_ , we’re going to need him to fill in. The Daveed role isn’t like Pip’s role. It’d be impossible to find a replacement in a couple of days.”

“Which is the problem,” Alexander agreed with a sigh. He leaned in the doorway. “Speaking of Philip, is he here?”

“I think he’s with Eliza, doing vocal warmups at the piano.”

Alexander nodded and turned to go and check on them when Aaron asked, “Aren’t you going to get changed?”

Alexander looked back over his shoulder and grinned. “Once Madison is here, _then_ I’ll get changed.” He heard John laugh as he left, making some kind of comment about Jefferson training Madison better. Alexander headed to the piano room, as they have dubbed it. It was an isolated room towards the back of the theatre with soundproof walls so singers could practice loud numbers without interrupting anyone else that may be using the theatre. There was a single piano in the room to match pitch, but Alexander knew that Eliza and Philip liked to use it for their own purpose.

When he stepped into the room, he was met with a loud clanging of the piano keys. It wasn’t a bad sound necessarily, but it was certainly loud enough to make his eardrums ache.

“Gently, gently!” Eliza exclaimed, holding onto Philip’s wrists gently. They were both seated at the piano and it seemed that it was Philip who was playing so loudly on the piano. “If you pound on the keys, you’ll make the piano upset.”

Philip frowned. “The piano doesn’t have feelings.”

“As far as you know.” Alexander grinned as he approached the both of them.

Eliza’s face lit up. “Alexander. Is it time for rehearsals?”

“No, we’re still waiting for Madison to show up.” He leaned on the piano and smiled at the both of them. “How are your lessons going, Philip?”

“I’m doing great!” he said proudly with a wide grin.

“He can’t remember how to count past seven in French.” Eliza gave Philip a pointed look, which he just returned with a pouting frown.

“I don’t need to know how to count in French to play piano!”

“It’s good to know.”

“I’m never going to France. I don’t need to know it!”

Alexander laughed. “You’re always trying to make kids smarter than they actually are, Eliza.”

Philip looked quite offended at that. “I’m smarter than you!” That earned an ‘oooh’ from Eliza and another laugh from Alexander.

“Are you now? I know how to count to ten in French.”

That seemed to shut up Philip, at least for the time being, as he looked down at his lap and muttered something under his breath.

Alexander looked back to Eliza. “You agree that Jefferson is really annoying, right?”

“Are you still angry about yesterday?” she laughed.

“Yes! He just stormed out, like the drama queen he is. He takes everything way too personally. I feel like if I make a comment about his hair, he’ll take it like a personal insult to his mother.”

Eliza laughed again and shook her head. “He’s just a little sensitive. Maybe he is just excited to be able to perform as a lead. Surely you remember the frustrations of being cast as an understudy?”

Alexander had to admit that he did. While he wasn’t cast in a lot of shows in the professional world, since he was more focused on writing them, he still remembered his disappointment when he was an understudy in high school productions. He would memorize his lines faster than anyone and put his all into every performance. He even showed up to every rehearsal. And yet he still only got to perform one night in the few days that the show ran at the school. Of course it was frustrating. But this was the real world and Jefferson would be getting a show night every week until the show had run its course. Couldn’t he just be grateful and suck it up like any other adult would?

“I still think he’s being childish,” Alexander finally said.

“He should feel better after performing today. He’s probably just antsy about the show’s opening nearing.”

Suddenly Philip cried out, “Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf!” He crossed his arms and beamed proudly. “Now who’s smarter?”

Alexander had to cover his mouth to keep from busting out into laughter. When he’d swallowed down his chuckles, he said, “Dix is ten, you know.”

Philip stared blankly at Alexander for a moment before mumbling the numbers again to himself, counting on his fingers and realizing that he’d only announced up to nine. He let out a groan and banged his hands on the piano keys, creating a sharp and obnoxious sound that grated on Alexander’s ears.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Eliza said sternly, grabbing Philip and pulling him off of the bench. “Rehearsals are starting soon, so let’s go to the main stage.” As Philip headed towards the door, Eliza added to Alexander, “Just try to play nice with him today. We don’t need more drama happening days before the opening night.”

“I won’t start anything if he doesn’t,” Alexander promised, following her out the door. He parted with them and headed back towards the dressing room, figuring that even if he wanted to spite Jefferson, he would only be keeping everyone waiting if he didn’t change.

As he neared the dressing room, Jefferson came around the corner, forcing Alexander to stop. “James said he’s on his way,” Jefferson informed him. “He should be about five minutes…why are you still not dressed?”

“I was just about to get changed, actually.” Alexander gave Jefferson a soft glare, which was met with a sneer from Jefferson. Sometimes Alexander really wondered what it would be like to punch Jefferson square in his face. “Rehearsal will start once Madison gets here. He’s not going to get everyone sick, is he?”

“I don’t think migraines are contagious.”

“You’re making him come here with a migraine? What the hell?”

Jefferson rolled his eyes. “James gets migraines more often than he catches colds. He said that he would be fine. I didn’t make him do anything.”

Alexander certainly didn’t believe that but he just pushed his way past Jefferson. If Madison wasn’t feeling up to it, he would just let Hercules take over in his usual role. In the meantime, however, Alexander really needed to get changed.

Once he was finished, he headed out to the main stage and was stopped by Eliza, who rushed up to him.

“Alexander,” Eliza cried. “He’s here.”

“Who, Madison? Just tell him to get changed so we can start.

“No, not him! Well, he is too, but that’s not what I mean. The _owner_. He’s here.”

Alexander’s eyes widened. He forgot that the man who owned the theatre they used to rehearse was visiting today. He liked to check in on their progress, and he’d told Alexander that he’d be popping in today since their opening night was so close. Alexander had completely forgotten, and was now regretting that it was the understudy rehearsal. He wanted him to see the best that they had to offer, and while the understudies were good at their job, they weren’t the main roles. Alexander felt like he was kind of cheating him.

“Thank you for telling me.” He hurried past Eliza and readjusted his tie before stepping out onto the stage. He beamed at the owner, who was chatting with Aaron Burr at the apron. “George!”

George Washington turned and smiled. “Alexander, there you are. I thought you had forgotten about me.”

“Of course not, sir!” He hopped down off the stage so he could be on eye level with George, but he immediately regretted it when he remembered that George was a whole head taller than him. He saw the owner so little that Alexander always liked to believe that they were the same height. “Is John not coming again?”

George shook his head. “John Adams couldn’t attend, no.”

“Let me guess: more ‘family business’ that he had to take care of?” John Adams almost never came with George when he visited the theatre. Alexander wondered if John Adams even did anything for George, despite them being co-owners together.

“Yes. He’s visiting his wife and children.”

“Let me guess again: he’s just using that as an excuse to get away from real work?”

A disapproving look formed on George’s face. “His daughter has taken ill, actually. She was diagnosed with cancer recently.”

That easily shut Alexander up. He opened his mouth to say something, decided against it, and closed it again. After a long moment of awkward silence, Alexander suddenly moved on and said, “We’re almost ready to begin. There’s just one more actor we’re waiting on.”

“James Madison, as Aaron was telling me.” George nodded in Aaron’s direction, who seemed pleased to be acknowledged. “I didn’t realize that today was an understudy rehearsal.”

Alexander was quick to say, “We could always move it back another day, sir.” However, someone cleared their throat loudly and Alexander didn’t even have to look over his shoulder to know that it was Jefferson whose red-hot glare he could feel digging into his back. “I mean, I would _like_ to, sir, but I already moved it from yesterday to today and that would…unfair, to the understudies.”

George smiled and waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, Alexander. Understudy rehearsals are just as good as regular ones. I don’t mind watching the understudies shine.”

In all honesty, Alexander was kind of hoping that George would insist on seeing the principal actors perform and that Alexander would be unable to say no. But George was always too agreeable for that. “Of course, sir. Thank you.” He turned around and searched the cast that was present. “Is Madison ready yet?”

“Yes.” Alexander looked to the door and found the owner of the tiny voice. James Madison was dressed in his costume and looked pretty tired. His nose was a little red as it always was, no doubt from using too many tissues.

“Are you sure you’re okay to perform?” Alexander asked, feeling a little concerned. Madison never looked his best, but Alexander certainly didn’t want to push the guy.

However, Madison nodded and proceeded onto the stage. “I’ll be alright. I took some Tylenol for my headache and my voice doesn’t sound hoarse like it did yesterday, so I’ll be alright to sing. We should get started.”

Alexander nodded and turned back to George with another hospitable smile. “Please take a seat, sir, and enjoy the show.”

* * *

The show went well. Better than well, actually. It was one of their best performances yet, and Alexander knew that it was probably because everyone wanted to impress George before they were sent off to Broadway. Like a final ‘thank you’ for him letting them use his space.

After they took their final bow with George’s lone applause in the house to appreciate them, Alexander hopped down and turned to face the crowd. “Notes!”

After every rehearsal, Alexander made sure to provide all of the actors with a note or two so they could always be improving their performances. Even with opening night so close, Alexander could spot something that they all had to work on.

Once everyone was seated in a semicircle in front of Alexander he began to look down the line, providing notes as he went.

“John, your lisp starts to slip in a bit after intermission. Remember to warm up your mouth again before the second act.”

“Irish wristwatch is a go,” Laurens confirmed.

“James, your movements were a little slow today. If you’re tired on an understudy, let us know whether you’re up to performing or not. I don’t want you to push yourself when you’re not feeling well.”

James just nodded and covered his mouth as he coughed again.

“Maria, your acting habit is showing again. Try not to chew on your lip, okay?”

She nodded. “I’ll work on it.”

Alexander continued with each person until he got to the last person in the circle: Jefferson.

Maybe it was because he was still angry at Jefferson from the day or before, or maybe he just enjoyed spiting him, but Alexander had paid extra attention to Jefferson, and as such, he had several things to note about his performance.

“Jefferson.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“To begin,” said Alexander, “Your hair is a real distraction, whether you’re playing Daveed or being an ensemble member.”

“I’m not changing my hair, Hamilton.”

“Second, your accent is still too strong even when you try to mask it. Either figure out how to sound like you’re from California, or leave it alone.”

Jefferson’s jaw tightened. “But it doesn’t bother you when Lafayette clearly sounds French as he plays Daveed?”

“I made a decision about my accent,” Lafeytte said, “and Alexander is only telling you to make that decision.”

Alexander proceeded, not giving Jefferson another chance to fight him. “Next, your dancing is getting sloppy—”

“No it’s not.”

Alexander raised his eyebrows at Jefferson’s challenge. “You can’t see your dancing. It’s getting sloppy.”

“It’s just as good as everyone else’s. I’m on time.”

“You may be on time but you’re not smooth in how you move your feet.”

” _Excuse_ me? I’m a better dancer than anyone else in this cast.”

That almost made Alexander laugh. “Just like you’re a better actor, too? That reminds me, you slipped up on a couple of lines and changed the wording around.”

“Oh, so you’ve got your entire script memorized? Just because I accidentally changed a couple of words doesn’t mean I’m not memorized.”

“How can I be sure about that?”

Jefferson’s face grew a little red with anger. “Because I’ve been off script before everyone else. I haven’t even had to look at my libretto in the past two weeks.”

“Well maybe you should review it so you don’t mess up like you did today.”

Jefferson got to his feet and glared down at Alexander. He was positively towering over him with the added height of the stage. “Why are you targeting me like this?”

“I’m not targeting you,” Alexander said calmly.

“Yes, you are! You gave everyone else _one_ note, and yet here you are rattling off to me about all of my supposed mistakes!”

“They _are_ mistakes, Jefferson! Maybe if you worked a little harder then I wouldn’t have to be pointing out all of your slip ups.”

“I work harder than anyone else in the cast!” Jefferson suddenly yelled, his voice booming. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I work even harder than you! But it’s not like no one would ever notice. No one ever notices the ensemble! Or an understudy!”

Suddenly Jefferson turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving everyone behind to watch him go in shocked silence.

Alexander was the first one to find his voice again. He shook his head and said to no one in particular, “How bratty can a grown man get?”

“Alexander.” He turned to see George, who had stood from his seat in the house. The owner approached and the look on his face scared Alexander. It looked like he was about to get scolded for doing nothing at all. “You should go and apologize.”

“What? _Apologize?_ Sir, no offense, but I didn’t do anything! I said nothing that would warrant an apology!”

George shook his head. “Maybe you don’t believe so, but he does. I think both of you were out of line and unprofessional, but because you’re the director, you need to be the bigger person in this situation. I don’t want this one argument to spark drama that is going to carry over into the show. Whether or not you’re in the wrong, you need to diffuse the situation before it does any serious damage, even if that means apologizing first. Now go and talk to him. I can wrap up here for you and the cast can wait until you come back to go and get changed.” George looked over at the cast. “If that’s alright with everyone.”

Everyone else nodded. It seemed they were just as intimidated by George as Alexander was.

Biting back a sharp quip that he knew would lose them the rehearsal space, Alexander gave George a stiff nod and headed back to the dressing room, trying to figure out exactly how he was supposed to apologize to Thomas Jefferson.


	4. The Front of the Crowd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s about time we kick off the real drama of this fic, isn’t it? ;)

_Being at the front of a crowd is always glorious. It felt nice to be able to see everything, feel the most sunlight on your cheeks, get first pick at an event. Being in the front always had its benefits. He loved being in the front and would do so at every opportunity. Even when some people grabbed him and tried to push him towards the back, or he even wanted to pull back and blend into the crowd, he remained right at the front in the limelight._

_That is, until a strong hand grabbed a hold of his arm and pulled him back. He fought against it, like he did every time someone tried to pull him from the front, but he was too weak this time. The hand pulled him further back and he lost sight of the light, of the happiness, that came with being at the front. Everything was darker and more confusing in the middle of the crowd, towards the back. He didn’t want this. He wanted to be near the front. What did he ever do to be pulled away from the front?_

* * *

 

Alexander was taking his sweet time walking back to the dressing room, and it was giving him time to psyche himself up to talking to Jefferson. “Alright, you got this. You can do this. All you have to do is go in there and apologize…and how in the hell am I supposed to apologize?!”

This was ridiculous. He had absolutely nothing to apologize for. All he had done was give Jefferson honest notes about his performance, and if he couldn’t handle that, then he was the one acting like a child. Sure, Alexander may have been a little…aggressive, in the way that he presented the notes, but that was just because Jefferson fought him on _everything_. If Alexander wasn’t aggressive, then how would Jefferson ever take his notes seriously?

“Just walk in, tell him you were out of line, and assure him that he’s doing fine,” Alexander told himself. The dressing room was just around the corner and he was running out of time to stall with. “You’ll be in and out in ten minutes flat. Problem solved. Everyone’s happy.”

After taking a deep breath and holding it to brace himself, Alexander walked into the dressing room.

Jefferson was half changed out of his costume and was pulling on his normal shirt while he looked at an open libretto that was set on the counter.

“I said ‘pranced’ instead of ‘waltzed’? What does that even matter? We don’t even show her actually _entering_ the room,” Jefferson muttered under his breath. Alexander cleared his throat and Jefferson looked up, catching his eye in the mirror. His expression immediately darkened. “What do you want, Hamilton?”

Alexander glanced away. Jefferson’s glare was sharper than usual today and it hurt to look at it directly. He felt like he was going to be turned to stone. “George sent me. I just came to—”

“What, were you not done with your notes?” Jefferson interrupted. He turned around to properly face Alexander. “Were there a couple more that you were just dying to hand deliver?”

“No, Jefferson, that’s not—”

“I bet it was my belting in the third scene of the second act, wasn’t it? My voice was too piercing and it rose above the crowd? I should draw back and let myself blend and disappear amongst all the other voices?”

“Jefferson—”

He waved his hand and continued to cut Alexander off. “No, no, I’m always late for my cues, is that it? I should have been there .4 seconds earlier, of course! I wasted so much time taking a breath before entering the scene. I should just stop breathing entirely.”

“Will you stop—”

“ _Oh,_ I bet it was my—sorry, _Lafayette’s_ —nice emotional scene. You know, the one on page 137, act two, scene four? Of course you know it. You wrote the thing and that means that you’re the god of the Broadway stage! You know what’s best for _every_ performance and I don’t know anything, so obviously, you—”

“ _God,_ will you just _shut up_ already?!” Alexander shrieked. Jefferson took a half step back, not looking pleased at the loud interruption. “I’m not here to give you anymore goddamn notes!”

Jefferson’s expression soured and he crossed his arms. “Then what _are_ you here for?”

Alexander inhaled sharply and looked away. “I’m here to apologize.”

“You? Apologize to me?” Jefferson scoffed. “That would be something George would put you up to.”

“Will you just let me get it over with?” Alexander sighed and forced himself to look back at Jefferson. He may as well make it _look_ like he meant it. “Jefferson, I’m sorry being too forward with your notes.”

“You mean targeting me.”

Alexander felt his eye twitch and that familiar urge to punch Jefferson was coming back. Alexander _really_ couldn’t afford to break one of his actor’s faces the week before opening night, though. “Like I said before, I was not targeting you.”

Jefferson rolled his eyes. “It certainly felt like it. Why else would you give me four notes while everyone else gets one?”

“Because there were more things wrong with your performance today.”

“It wasn’t just today, Hamilton.” Jefferson glared at his director and took a step forward. Alexander had to force himself to stand his ground. “Since day one, you’ve always been picking on me and how I play the part.”

“I picked on you because as an understudy, you’re supposed to replicate Lafayette’s performance. But you always put your own spin on the role and it’s harder for actors to respond to that properly when you play the character differently.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?!” Jefferson snapped. “Of course I know that. And I do that now. But I’m talking about everything else! You’d find every opportunity to find something wrong with how I do anything, and you’re still doing that now.”

“As the director, it’s my job to find flaws in your performance and point them out. If I kept silent about them then I would be a terrible director!”

Jefferson was right up in Alexander’s face now. “You’re also a terrible director if you pick on one actor who isn’t even going to be in the production that much! You focus so much of your energy on _me_ and I don’t even matter in the grand scheme of things!”

Alexander’s expression scrunched up and he took a step forward, forcing Jefferson back. “I pick on you because you’re lazy!”

“I am _hardly_ lazy—”

“You’re the last one in and the first to leave! If you aren’t performing as Daveed, then you’re the last one in your costume, too! You don’t listen to the notes that I give you and so I have to keep giving them to you over and over again. You don’t respect me. Just because you have a good memory for a script doesn’t mean that you can just slack off and not rehearse.”

“You think I don’t rehearse?!” Jefferson shouted. “Do you think I just go home and cook macaroni while watching Desperate Housewives or something? I’m always rehearsing! Practicing the dance routine, going over lines in my head, and practicing the songs! Hell, if I didn’t have the discipline to know when to take breaks and rest my voice, I probably would have worked it raw by now! So don’t talk to _me_ about being lazy!”

Alexander still wasn’t convinced. Jefferson tended to hype up the truth if it would put in him a better lighting, and this seemed just like something he’d do. “You’re just unreliable, Jefferson.”

“ _How_ in the _world_ am I _unreliable?!_ I show up to every practice, even if I’m the last one here! I have missed a rehearsal a total of _one time_ when I was so sick that I couldn’t even leave my bathroom all day! Would you rather that I had come here? Gotten everyone else sick so then they would have lost all of the rehearsal time that they clearly need?”

“Jefferson, you’re not listening!” Alexander groaned. He ran his hands over his face, as though rubbing his cheeks would somehow make this whole situation easier to handle.

Jefferson crossed his arms and his glare held all of hell’s fury. “Then explain it _better_ , Hamilton.”

“I just…!” Alexander inhaled sharply. What was he supposed to say that would actually get Jefferson to listen to him? All he had wanted to do was apologize and instead it had turned into this mess! “I was just apologizing, Jefferson.”

“Well I don’t accept it. You’re still an ass.”

Alexander’s eyes widened. “ _I’m_ the ass?! I’m trying to help!”

“And how is this ever supposed to help?”

“I don’t know! Maybe if you’d actually listen! I just want you to be the best understudy that you can be!”

“Oh, what does that matter?!” Jefferson screamed at a volume that made Alexander jump. “Nobody cares about the understudy, Hamilton! Or the ensemble! We’re just there as a safety net, or to make the principals look good! But we don’t matter! You can replace me in an instant, and the only reason why you haven’t, is because you thought I was a challenge or something.”

“That’s not—”

“Shut up, just _shut up for once in your goddamn life!_ You just talk and talk and talk and never let anyone else get a word in! I have to shut my mouth every day while you rattle on about your precious show even though you don’t seem to know what you’re doing half of the time! But I’m always on your radar, no matter what I do. ‘Jefferson, fix your hair, it’s too distracting!’ Well I’m sorry that I like my hair the way it is, Hamilton, because I’m not changing it! ‘Jefferson, dance better, you’re holding everyone back!’ I’m just holding myself back because you want things done in a very specific way when it can be so much better! ‘Jefferson, know your lines exactly as I wrote them because I know what’s best for everyone and I shouldn’t be questioned!’ Actors are allowed to change things, Hamilton, you just won’t allow it because you’re too protective of your stupid musical!”

As he was yelling, Jefferson slowly advanced on Alexander, making him backtrack until he was pressed up against the wall. “Jefferson, please—”

“’Jefferson, please!’” Jefferson mocked in a whiny voice before continuing in his normal tone. “What, Hamilton? What do you want to ask of me? ‘Jefferson, please stop being so rude! Jefferson, please stop trying to improve the show! Jefferson, please stop acting like you’re the best actor here!’ You know, you’re right, Hamilton! I’m a terrible person! I’m horrible! Why did I even bother thinking that I could be good enough for a principal role? My acting is subpar, my dancing is atrocious, my singing sounds like a dying cat. I’m a nothing; a nobody! I’ve failed everyone in my life, including myself! So what’s the point of fighting with you anymore? What’s the point of trying to do _anything_ worthwhile anymore? _I’m such a goddamn failure that it doesn’t matter anymore!!_ ”

Jefferson turned around and kicked at the wall before leaning over the counter and burying his face in his hands. Luckily, he was no longer wearing the stiff boots of his costume and instead was just wearing his flexible loafers, so no dent was left in the wall.

Alexander stared at Jefferson for a long moment, rendered speechless. He had never seen Jefferson get so worked up. Even when he was pissed at Alexander, it was usually a short burst of anger that ended with nothing more than a slightly raised voice. This was a completely other level. When Alexander finally found his voice, he asked, “Why would you say all of that?”

Jefferson took in a shuddering breath. “…fuck,” he mumbled, barely loud enough for Alexander to hear. Jefferson stood suddenly and turned. His eyes were red and looked glassy. “I’m leaving.”

As he was walking past, Alexander grabbed his arm. “Wait, Jefferson, you…you don’t actually mean those things that you said about yourself, right?”

“Let me go, Hamilton.”

“ _You,_ the narcissistic asshole who thinks you’re better than anyone else, couldn’t possibly think those things.”

“I said _let me go_ , Hamilton, before I rip your arm—”

“Because none of that is true.”

Jefferson froze. His jaw bobbed up and down for a moment before he turned his head to look at Alexander. Alexander met his eyes and didn’t know what to do with what he saw. Jefferson looked surprised; beyond that, he looked shocked. He looked so lost, like a child who had lost sight of their parent.

“It’s not,” Alexander repeated. “Nobody thinks that.”

“Everyone thinks that.”

“Not everyone.”

“You do.”

Alexander shook his head. “No I don’t. Of course I don’t think that.”

Jefferson looked away, finally breaking their gaze. “You’re as bad of a liar as you are a director.”

“Jefferson.” Alexander squeezed his arm a little tighter. “I’m being honest. I might give you a lot of notes about your performance, but I never said that you were bad actor. You’re definitely not a failure.”

Unfortunately, his words seemed to have little effect on Jefferson, who just shook his head gently. “Hamilton, please.”

“I mean it!” Alexander tightened his grip on Jefferson’s arm further. “You have great tonal clarity when you sing. While you can belt, you never strain your voice or make it unbearable to listen to. It’s really an admirable thing to listen to. You speak with great diction which is something that the other actors are still lacking in from time to time. You move swiftly and even if you might mess up some footing once in a while, you always recover without looking like you messed up, and everyone is always so focused on your hair that they don’t notice a slipup anyway. You don’t say the lines word for word but you have great intuition in how to adjust your delivery of the line given anything that is altered in the scene. You can think on your feet and that’s really useful when you’re in a Broadway show. You’re _not_ a failure, Thomas Jefferson.”

That finally made Jefferson lift his head to meet Alexander’s eyes again. He looked conflicted, like he wasn’t sure if he should believe Alexander or not. Finally, his gaze dropped again. “I don’t need your pity. I just need to go home for the night.”

“It’s not pity. Really. I wouldn’t have cast you if I thought you were a bad actor or that you weren’t up for this. You have good vocals, a nice presence on stage, and you can get into character easily. You’re an amazing actor, Jefferson.”

“But I’m not good enough to be a principal.”

Alexander blinked slowly. Jefferson still didn’t look at him and seemed really interested in a specific spot on the floor. His lip kept quivering until he bit it to keep it still.

“Is that what this is about?” Alexander asked. “You’re jealous of Lafayette?”

“I’m not _jealous_ ,” Jefferson said, although his usual sharp tone sounded dull. “It’s just…you tell me that I’m good at all of these things. And I thought that I was. I’ve had the training, the connections, the experience…and yet your best friend who can’t even hide his French accent ended up being the person to get the role. The one who was one of the last to memorize his lines. The one who still needs you to show him the footwork for the group choreography even though it’s tech week. I just don’t understand, Hamilton.” He inhaled deeply. “Am I not good enough, or did you just play favorites?”

Alexander didn’t know what to say. He didn’t really know. Sure, Lafayette being his friend probably played a minor part in how he decided, but the casting was so long ago that Alexander didn’t even remember his reasoning for choosing Lafayette over Jefferson. Even if he did, what was he supposed to say? Neither answer would make him happy.

“I’m going home,” Jefferson said, sounding tired. He moved away and this time Alexander let him, dropping his arm in the process. Jefferson didn’t even pause as he left the room. Alexander remained where he stood for a moment longer, watching the door.

What side of Jefferson was that? Alexander had never seen anything like that. It seemed so surreal, like he was dreaming. But after pinching himself, Alexander knew that this wasn’t a dream.

He looked back before leaving, just to make sure that the dressing room was clear for the other actors when they came to change. He noticed that Jefferson had left his libretto on the counter. After picking it up and tucking it under his arm, Alexander went back to the main stage to release the other actors.


	5. Stay Away from the Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what you would call the calm before the storm.

_The girl was warned to stay away from the wolf. “He’ll bite your head off,” they said. “He’ll kill you without batting an eye.” But she didn’t think that was the case. Maybe the wolf was just lonely, she thought. If he just needed a friend, then maybe she’ll be his friend. It’ll solve the whole mess._

_When she faced the wolf, she offered him a smile and held out a flower towards him. The wolf crept closer, sniffing curiously. Her smile widened and she reached out with her other hand to pet his snout. When she got too close, however, the wolf lashed out and his teeth came down right on her tiny hand._

* * *

Alexander never disliked James Madison. On the contrary, he actually believed that he was a kind man who deserved a lot more in life than what he was given. Between his constant illnesses and quiet attitude, Madison wasn’t much of a presence to account for. But Alexander knew that he could be quite the force if he needed to be.

“You look better today,” Alexander commented as he took a seat beside James. The Virginian glanced up at him. He was seated in the house before rehearsals began, going over his lines even though he was ensemble today.

James closed his libretto. “Yes, I’m feeling better. I haven’t had a headache today, so I’d say this is the best I’ve felt in a week.” He offered a tired smile. “Yesterday’s rehearsal took a lot out of me, though.”

“You and me both,” Alexander said as he crossed his arms. He looked up when he heard someone come in and saw Jefferson, dressed in his ensemble costume. Normally he was the last one dressed, so that came as a surprise. However as soon as Jefferson caught Alexander’s gaze and saw that he was sitting with Madison, he turned and left the room once more. Alexander let out a sigh and looked at James once more. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Is it about Thomas?” James asked, having noticed the silent, tense exchange.

“Maybe.”

James sighed. “What is it?”

“How do you…” Alexander paused, looking for the right words. “…stand him?”

James let out a small laugh and nodded. He was expecting as much. “I stand him because he’s my friend. A lot of people could probably ask why you stand Hercules, or Lafayette.”

“That’s different. People actually _like_ them. Almost nobody likes Jefferson.” James gave him a pointed look and Alexander held his hands up in defense. “What?”

“Would you like it if I said that everyone hated your friends?” When Alexander just shrugged, James sighed and looked back down at his libretto. “I don’t just ‘stand’ him, Alexander. He’s my friend, honest. He can be a little difficult at times, but he’s not one dimensional. He has dreams, fears, whatever, just like everyone else. You just have to get used to the way he presents himself.”

Alexander’s nose wrinkled with distaste. “It’s not exactly something that you can get used to. I don’t know if you haven’t noticed this, James, but he’s a dick.”

“It takes one to know one.” James glanced at Alexander and smiled a little smugly when he saw how offended Alexander looked. “As Thomas would say, of course. But you don’t know him, Alex, not really. You only fight with him. Of course you’re going to think he’s rude. But he’s not like that all of the time, I promise you. He’s more different than you think.”

That caught Alexander’s attention, reminding him of Thomas’s behavior the day before. The side of Thomas that he had never seen before. It was so strange and out of left field. Or maybe, as James said, it was just a side of Alexander that he had never bothered to see before.

“James, would you say that Jefferson is…insecure?”

James let out a laugh, clearly louder than he’d intended, since he quickly covered his mouth with his hand as it devolved into a coughing fit. When it faded, James glanced at Alex. “What makes you say something like that?”

“No reason. I just…” Alex shrugged and looked away. “But I guess I was wrong.”

“Oh, I never said you were wrong,” said James, making Alex whip his head back in his direction. James was looking back at his libretto, lazily thumbing through the pages.

“So…he is insecure?”

“I didn’t say you were right either.” James looked up and gave Alex a hard stare. “I’m not Thomas, Alex. You can’t ask me intimate things about him. I’m his _friend_ , I hope you remember. I’m not about to tell you my friend’s deepest fears or darkest secrets or whatever. If you think he’s insecure, then you should find out yourself. And then if he is, you should _help him_. I don’t know why you want to know, but given how you’ve treated him before, I can’t imagine it would be for a good reason.”

James rose to his feet and slipped the libretto under his arm. Alex stood with him. “I’m not going to like…use anything against him, James. He’s one of my actors. I’m not going to break him.”

“And so long as you still think of him as ‘one of your actors’ instead of a person, I’m not going to help you.” James glanced down at his watch. “Rehearsals start soon, Alexander. You should get everyone to the stage.”

Alexander grumbled to himself, knowing that James was right. He didn’t have time to focus on Jefferson…kind of. There was one more thing he needed to attend to before he could put his full attention on rehearsals, and unfortunately, that had to do with Jefferson.

When James left, Alexander headed backstage towards the dressing room. He walked in and found Lafayette joking along with John. Hercules was nowhere to be seen and Alexander suspected he was probably grabbing some food from the café across the street. He usually seemed to get something before rehearsals since his character didn’t show up until the third scene. Alexander always yelled at him about it, saying that he’ll ruin his costume one day and Alexander was not going to bail him out. But of course he would. He always did.

Jefferson was also in the dressing room, making some minute adjustments to his mane. When he noticed Alexander come in, he turned and left without a word. Alexander didn’t even know why he was being so crabby like this, but he brushed it off and walked over to his friends.

“Monsieur Lafayette,” Alexander greeted, the formality being an inside joke between the both of them.

Lafayette’s expression brightened and replied, “Monsieur Hamilton. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I have a favor to ask of you.” Alexander glanced at the ground, suddenly feeling a little sheepish about this whole thing. He knew that Lafayette was going to be pissed, but he asked anyway. “Would you be okay with giving opening night to Jefferson?”

Lafayette’s eyes widened before they lit with a fiery anger. “Why would I give opening night to Jefferson?”

Alexander knew this would happen. Lafayette prided himself in his role as Daveed. He wouldn’t want to give up opening night for anything. “It’s, you know, a means of healing the divide. George said that I should stop any drama from boiling over before opening night.”

“That means that you apologize to him, Alexander, _not_ that you give him my spot on opening night!”

“But think about it!” Alexander cried, starting to feel uncomfortable about this whole thing. It was bad enough to have the whole Jefferson mess in the back of his mind. He didn’t need Lafayette being upset with him just two days before opening night. “Jefferson is just going to complain and bitch and moan until his understudy night, and that’s not for another week! This will tide him over. It’ll make him happy, to have opening night. Then maybe he won’t be such a pain in the neck anymore.”

Lafayette’s glare didn’t let up; if anything, it grew in intensity. “ _I’ll_ be a pain in your neck if you keep trying to talk me into this, Alexander.”

Alexander bit his lip tightly. He just wanted to resolve this mess before it grew any more. “Laf, please. I really need this. I don’t want Jefferson pulling hissy fits the whole week. This is a peace offering.”

“Then get him a fruit basket! This is _opening night_ , Alexander. That’s not just a peace offering. That’s important!” Lafayette crossed his arms and frowned at him. “Why are you really doing this, Alexander? It isn’t like you to something _this_ big for someone you hate. Even if it’s a ‘peace offering’.”

Well what was he supposed to say?

“When I had to go apologize to Jefferson yesterday, he said some things,” Alexander said slowly. “I just think that this is the best course of action.”

Lafayette and John exchanged glances. John was the one to speak this time. “He threatened you?”

“What? No! No, not like that. It’s just…” This would be so much easier if they had just heard what Jefferson had said. If they’d heard the things he’d said about himself, with such conviction, then Lafayette would be more willing to give up opening night. Alexander knew that. Lafayette used to be Jefferson’s friend too, after all. If he’d seen how vulnerable Jefferson was, this would work. But it wasn’t Alexander’s place to reveal this side of Jefferson. “He needs this. Please just trust me on this, Laf.”

Lafayette gave Alexander a hard stare, as though he were trying to read his mind and find out exactly why Jefferson ‘needed’ this. He must have approved of whatever he came up with, because Lafayette sighed and dropped his arms. “Fine. If it’s _that_ important to you, then I will gift him with opening night.” While Lafayette didn’t sound happy about it, Alexander was relieved.

“Thanks, Laf,” Alexander cried, almost laughing. He hugged him, giving Lafayette a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“If Jefferson is bullying you into this, I can always break his nose,” John offered, looking about as happy with this situation as Laf was.

Alexander gave John a stern look. “He’s not bullying me. And even if he was, I do _not_ want you or anyone else breaking his nose two days before opening night!”

John raised an eyebrow. “One day before then?”

Alexander gave John a shove, which earned a laugh from his friends. It put Alexander more at ease. He waved to them and reminded them that rehearsals began soon. Then he left and began his hunt for Jefferson to deliver him the good news.

It didn’t take very long to track down Jefferson. Because he wasn’t in the dressing room or on stage, there was only one more place that he could be. Alexander rounded back and sure enough, Jefferson was in the piano room.

Jefferson was warming up his vocals, climbing scales as he played them on the piano. He abruptly stopped when he saw Alexander come in. His gaze darkened and he stood up quickly to leave, but Alexander approached him quickly.

“Hey, hey, wait! Jefferson, I really need to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say, Hamilton,” Jefferson said, his words laced with poison.

Alexander moved in front of Jefferson, doing all he could to stop him from advancing. Luckily, Jefferson did stop to glare down at him. “I just want to talk.”

“About what? What I said yesterday? I was just pissed, Hamilton, of course I didn’t mean any of that.”

Alexander wanted to tell Jefferson it was clear that he meant most, if not _all_ of that, but he kept his mouth shut. “No, it’s not about that. It’s about your performance nights.”

Jefferson’s eyes narrowed. “What? Are you taking away my nights because I yelled at you and hurt your feelings?”

It was really taking all of Alexander’s willpower not to turn around, go to Lafayette, and give him opening night again. But he restrained himself. “On the contrary. I want to give you opening night.”

Jefferson stared at him blankly. For a long moment, Alexander wondered if he somehow disconnected Robo-Jefferson, or overheated his mainframe. Then Jefferson suddenly whirred back to life and he spat, “Ha-ha, very funny, Hamilton. I’ll be on stage.”

When he tried to move past, Alexander grabbed his arm, holding him in place. “I’m not joking, Jefferson. I’m really giving you opening night.”

“As if! Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because…I don’t know, I don’t want you to be upset like you were yesterday!”

Jefferson’s eyes were ablaze. “So you’re pitying me?”

Alexander was taken aback. Did Jefferson just enjoy pulling random accusations out of thin air? “Of course not!”

“Yes, you are! Why would you give me opening night? I complained to you and you think I hate myself or something so you’re trying to make me ‘feel better’ by giving this to me. But I don’t want it!”

Suddenly Alexander felt a spike of anger surge through him. He was trying to do this nice thing for Jefferson and he’s just turning it into a reason to complain and make him out to be the bad guy!

“I’m giving this to you because I don’t want you being a distraction during opening night!” Alexander shouted, surprising Jefferson enough to take a step back. “You’re just going to complain about everything if you don’t get a chance in the spotlight. I don’t want to have to live with a week of insults and complaints from you before you get to perform.”

“Oh, so now I’m annoyance?” Jefferson glared. “Which is it, Alexander? Am I a good actor who deserves to perform on opening night? Or is this just an excuse to keep me quiet?”

“Both! Neither! I don’t know!” Alexander rubbed his hands over his face. It was clearly impossible for Thomas Jefferson to just say ‘okay, thank you’ to anyone without making a big deal out of it. “Just take the opening night!”

“Why should I?”

“Because it’ll make you happy! Because it’ll spite Lafayette! Because it’ll spite _me!_ Because I’m your goddamn director and I told you to! I don’t know, Jefferson, but I’m giving you what you’ve wanted for weeks on a silver platter and now you’re sending it back to the chef! I don’t even know what you want anymore!”

“I want—!” Jefferson stopped and his jaw clenched.

Alexander raised an eyebrow. “What? What do you want?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want. I’m just an understudy.”

A groan escaped Alexander and he turned around, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “There it is! Right on schedule!”

“What?”

Alexander turned around to face Jefferson again. “Your self-pity! You’re always bringing up the _terribly sad_ fact that you’re an understudy! A lot of people auditioned for a part in this musical, Jefferson. You should be grateful that you got a part at all!”

“This isn’t a _part!_ ” Jefferson shouted. “I’m a human safety net for Lafayette! I’m a constant second best to him! I’m the person that everyone is disappointed to watch perform because they want to see ‘that French fellow’ instead of someone from Virginia that actually knows what the hell he’s doing up on stage!”

“God, will you stop?! Lafayette is a good actor! You need to accept that, Jefferson! Stop acting as though he’s a complete amateur, because he’s good enough to get the principal role before you!”

That immediately shut Jefferson up. He stared at Alexander with wide eyes before his jaw tightened. Alexander could immediately tell that he’d hit a soft spot again. Jefferson had that same vulnerable look that he had yesterday in the dressing room.

“Just accept the opening night and move on with it,” Alex said, his voice returning to its normal volume. He didn’t want to keep fighting with Jefferson.

There was another long pause as Jefferson stared at Alexander. Finally, he inhaled sharply and looked away. “I’ll think about it.” He moved past Alexander and this time he wasn’t stopped.

“I need a confirmation,” Alexander said, not bothering to turn around.

“I said I’ll think about it.”

The door slammed. Alexander was left in the silent room, uncertain if he had to take the silver platter back to the chef or not.


	6. The Price of Vision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the nice, fluffy chapter!

_“If you want to save him then you have to give up something,” the witch said. “Something personal. Something important to you.” He offered up his food, his gold, his farm. The witch shook her head at every offering. “That is not enough. Is he not worth much to you? I said you must give up something important to you. Are you willing to accept that price, to save him?”_

_“Yes!” he cried. “Yes, I will do anything! Take whatever you need!” The witch seemed satisfied. She reached out and suddenly his world went black. It was his vision that she needed. His ability to see the best path, the clear future; in exchange for him, the man had to be blinded._

* * *

The day before opening night was always incredibly stressful. Alexander had had three cups of coffee and it wasn’t even noon yet. Eliza was the one that helped him lose his coffee addiction during the last couple of months of rehearsals, but that was thrown out of the window now. Alexander wanted opening night to be perfect, so he was using this last rehearsal to make any final tweaks.

“Jefferson!” he called out, walking up to the man in question. This was their lunch break and he knew that Jefferson often ate in the dressing room, whether James was there or not. Sure enough, he was sitting there, doing something on his phone. James was nowhere to be seen despite being there for the first half of rehearsals. “Where’s James?”

“Getting food for us. It was his turn to go get it.” Jefferson glanced up from his phone. “What do you need James for?”

Alexander shook his head. “Nothing. I needed you. I wanted to talk to you about your performance tomorrow. I was thinking that—”

“I’m not performing tomorrow.”

Alexander was rendered speechless immediately. It seemed only Thomas Jefferson had that effect on him. He gaped at Jefferson, who was back to messing with some app on his phone. “What do you mean you’re not performing tomorrow?”

“I talked it over with James. We both agreed that if I take opening night, it’s going to cause too much trouble. Lafayette is going to be pissed at me and that will cause too much tension. We both agreed that it’s better if I take the second night instead.”

Alexander pinched the bridge of his nose. “So you’re telling me the _day before opening night_ that you want to perform on the second night instead?!”

“You’re going to insist that I take some night, and I don’t want to cause more drama by accepting the opening night. This is the best compromise.”

“So you decided that it’s best to keep this decision to yourself instead of telling me straight away so I can let Lafayette know that he’s actually performing tomorrow?!”

Jefferson finally looked up from phone. “I already told Lafayette.”

“You told Lafayette but you didn’t tell your director?!” Alexander shouted. Jefferson just smirked.

“I knew you’d find out eventually.” Jefferson stood up. He slipped his phone into a pocket in his costume. “I didn’t think it really mattered.”

Alexander felt himself grow more agitated with every word. “And what if I hadn’t come to talk to you and I was still convinced that you were playing Daveed on opening night? Do you realize how stressed it would make me if I had to find that out just a couple of hours before we perform?”

“Do you realize how stressful it is to weigh the pros and cons of performing on opening night, and having to decide if getting something you’ve wanted more than anything is worth having a cast member hate you? _That_ is stressful, Hamilton.” Jefferson crossed his arms and glared at Alexander. Alexander returned the glare when he heard the door open behind him.

“Am I interrupting something?” James asked. Alexander broke the glare just to look back at James. His arms were full of bags of Chinese takeout and he was glancing between them with a questionable look.

Jefferson brushed past Hamilton and took one of the bags from James. “Nothing at all.” He left the room, leaving Alexander to stand there awkwardly with James, who looked terribly lost.

“Why did you talk him out of taking opening night?” Alexander asked.

James frowned and Alexander swore that his look bordered on a glare. But James was never very temperamental. “Why did you put him in a position to make that decision?”

Alexander looked at James in surprise. “I gave him an opportunity. He was the one who yelled at me about how he would never get recognition because he’s an understudy. So I wanted to give him the opening night performance. What’s so terrible about that?”

James shook his head in disbelief. “You wanted to force him into a position that would make him look like the bad guy. Alexander, opening night means _everything_ to an actor.”

“Which is why—”

“Which is why Lafayette would be _pissed_ for a long time if he had to give it up to Thomas, even if he agreed to it.” James shook his head. “Lafayette would never blame you. You’re his friend. But he and Thomas had a falling out years ago; that would only make him want to blame Thomas more for this. Thomas would rather that nobody is angry at him than take opening night. And you actually think that he would want otherwise? You really _don’t_ know anything about him.”

Alexander was getting really frustrated with both James and Thomas. Couldn’t they just accept a kind gesture without making him out to be the bad guy in all of this? “Thomas certainly doesn’t seem to be too bothered by being hated by so many people in the company.”

James stared at Alexander, mouth agape in disbelief. “You really _don’t_ know anything about Thomas, even after all this time.” He shook his head, muttering something under his breath, and left the room. Alexander stayed where he was for a long moment, trying to make sense of everything that just happened. He was mostly just angry. After all of that bickering with Lafayette to try to get something done, Thomas just threw it all back in his face.

 _God_ , Alexander was pissed.

He left, heading back towards the mainstage. He wasn’t hungry before lunch break began, and he certainly wasn’t now. Thomas Jefferson just destroyed any semblance of an appetite that Alexander could have created.

“Alexander!” Eliza called. She was back from lunch earlier than expected. Angelica was at her heels, but Peggy was nowhere in sight. Eliza drew to a stop when she was in front of Alexander. “We were wondering where you were.”

“Hi, Eliza,” said Alexander, feeling himself relax. The Schuyler sisters always had that calming effect on him. “Where’s Peggy?”

“With Lafayette,” Angelica replied, taking a spot beside her sister. She smiled at Alexander, giving him one of her soft grins that was reserved only for him. It always made Alexander feel fuzzy inside.

Eliza grinned and nodded. “She ate so slowly that she had to eat with him when we left. I don’t think that she was too disappointed.”

“Lafayette and Hercules both looked happy to have her join them as well,” Angelica agreed with a loud laugh. “Lafayette was betting that Hercules couldn’t eat a shot of straight ketchup while Hercules was arguing that he could without blinking. Peggy was going to be their ref.”

Alexander snickered and nodded. “That sounds like them. It’s good to know that Peggy is making friends.” At the beginning of the show, Peggy was a bit quiet and didn’t interact with anyone outside of her sisters. She kind of fell into the background, which made sense, as she was a member of the ensemble outside of her principal role. But it seemed that she was finally growing comfortable with the cast, even if it took all of rehearsals to see her break out of her skin.

Eliza’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Alexander! I had a question regarding the performance tomorrow. How did you want to do the meet and greet after the performance? We all come out at once, or we spread ourselves out a bit?”

“We’ll all come out at once,” Alexander said. “We’ll spread out among the fans so we can all circulate. But given that it will be the first night, I’m not sure how many people will actually be there.”

Eliza reached out and squeezed Alexander’s hand, her eyes twinkling. “There will be plenty of people, Alexander. They’re going to love this show. You’ve done a fantastic job with it.”

That put Alexander a lot more at ease. After everything that’s happened and how stressed he’d been about the project, it was nice to know that someone still believed that it was a good production. Jefferson certainly had shot Alexander’s self-esteem with how many ‘notes’ he always had for improvement.

Before Alexander could say anything, there was the sound of the main door opening and Eliza looked over, gasping, “Philip?!”

Alexander turned and his eyes widened when he saw the ten-year-old. Philip came in and set his bag down in one of the house seats. His eyes were red and he wiped his eyes free of tears. Alexander was quick to hop down from the stage and kneel in front of the boy.

“Philip, what’s wrong?” Alexander asked with a worried frown.

Philip sniffed and hiccuped, a clear sign that he was crying hard until just recently. “It’s nothing. It’s just George Eacker. He’s been bullying me again.”

“Bullying you?” Alexander gripped Philip’s shoulders and searched his face for any sort of injuries. “Has he hurt you?”

Philip shook his head and tried to push Alexander’s hands off of him. “Not like that. He doesn’t hit me. He just taunts me and says mean things. I told my teachers but he’s always in detention so it’s not like it matters.”

“Is this the same George Eacker who tore up your poetry?” Eliza asked, joining Alexander. “The twelve-year-old?”

“Yeah. He’s a jerk.” Philip sniffed again. His eyes were dry but he looked like he could cry again at any moment.

Alexander squeezed Philip’s shoulder again. “Have you told your parents about it? I’m sure they could reach out to George’s parents and get this worked out. Or you can change schools.”

Philip looked panicked at that suggestion. “I don’t wanna move schools!! Theo’s in my class! I don’t wanna leave.” Ah, yes. Theodosia: Aaron Burr’s daughter. Alexander had only met her a couple of times, when Aaron had to bring her to rehearsals while her mother had a doctor’s appointment and couldn’t keep an eye on her. She and Philip were quite close and Philip was constantly talking about her. Of course he wouldn’t want to leave her.

“Your parents can at least try to figure things out with George’s parents, then,” Alexander said gently, trying to ease Philip’s panic. That only seemed to make the boy look more hopeless.

“They’ve tried. They emailed his parents but they never responded. Dad even tried calling them but it never worked out. The school tried to call them in but they never showed.” Philip sighed. “I heard Dad say that they can only hope that he’ll be executed.”

Eliza gasped but Alexander had to fight back a laugh. “Are you sure he didn’t say ‘expelled’, Philip?”

The boy’s eyes widened. “Oh, yeah! That’s what it was.” He frowned a bit. “What does ‘executed’ mean again?”

Alexander actually laughed and rose to his feet. “I’ll tell you after rehearsals. Go and get changed. Have you had lunch?”

“I ate at school!” Philip replied, running towards the dressing rooms. He seemed to be in a bit of a better mood. Alexander hoped that it would remain that way.

Eliza sighed, standing up. “Where did he ever pick up that word?”

“Probably from the same kid who he wants to be executed,” Alexander said, shooting Eliza a joking look. “What? Am I not allowed to say funny things?”

Angelica took a seat on the apron. “You are, but that means you have to say something that’s actually funny.” Alexander sneered at her and she only returned it with a smirk.

The main door slammed open and cackling laughter drifted in. Peggy was clinging to Hercules’ back like a koala while Lafayette came stumbling in behind them, laughing so much that he looked like he was drunk. Hell, maybe he _was_ drunk.

“Everyone!” Peggy announced, despite there only being three other people in the room. “I would like to introduce Hercules Mulligan: the only man to chug an entire bottle of ketchup!”

“You did _what_ now?” Angelica cried, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

“I regret everything,” Hercules mumbled, his cheeks looking green as he staggered his way down to the stage. Peggy hopped off and drew Eliza into a hug, giggling.

Lafayette gave Hercules a firm slap on the back and Hercules pressed a hand to his mouth to keep his nausea down. “Do not worry. Monsieur Mulligan has earned a hefty paycheck for his troubles!”

“Ten bucks is not worth it,” Hercules groaned, pressing his forehead into the stage.

“You better not throw up here. George will kill you,” Alexander said. “Go splash water on your face. Rehearsals start in ten minutes.”

Hercules let out a loud moan as he lumbered towards the dressing rooms. “I think James has to fill in for me. If I have to do that triple spin in the first act, I _will_ throw up on stage and then you’ll be stuck with James as the principal.”

“We’ll try mustard next time!” Peggy called after him teasingly, which earned a noise that sounded eerily similar to a gag that preceded vomit.

“You’re cleaning it up if you just made him puke,” Alexander said, giving the third sister a pointed look. Peggy just waved her hand dismissively.

Lafayette pulled himself up on stage and stretched out his legs. Alexander took this opportunity to walk over and cross his arms, glaring at the tall Frenchman.

“Is there something that you need, _mon ami_?” Lafayette asked, looking down at his cross friend.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Jefferson gave you opening night back?”

Lafayette looked a little surprised. “I thought he told you already. He seemed quite sure in his decision, so I figured that he already ran it past you. He didn’t even tell you?”

“No, he didn’t. I only found out fifteen minutes ago.”

“Oh. I didn’t know, Alexander, honest.” Lafayette let out a low whistle. “I didn’t think he’d go around your back to give me the night back. But I’m still glad that he did. I was still angry about not being able to perform tomorrow, I’ll admit.”

It was Alexander’s turn to be surprised. He climbed onto the stage, his movements awkward given his short height, but he managed to get upright once more in front of Lafayette. “You were angry? I thought you would have gotten over it.”

“Alexander, I complained about you _and_ Jefferson to John when you left. Of course I was angry! Opening night is always the best night for an actor. I never wanted to give it up and I was angry that you made me.” Lafayette put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “How would you like it if I told you that you couldn’t perform on opening night?”

Alexander had to admit that Lafayette had a point. Alexander wouldn’t like it one bit if he had to give up opening night. He was just so concentrated on making Jefferson feel better that he hadn’t really put much thought into his actions.

Why did he care so much about Jefferson that it would blind him to reality?


	7. Wrong Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It'll be cloudy with sudden showers.

_Wrong. Wrong. It was all wrong. He stared down at his hands, listening to his scolding. Wrong again. He was always wrong, and he’s accepted that. A failure; he was a failure. Of course he knew that. He was told that all the time, wasn’t he? He knew. He’d accepted it. So just—no. He’s wrong. Always wrong._

_“Do better,” they said, their voice as sharp as knives. “Do more. You can’t expect to get along in life without doing everything you can do.” He tried to protest, and say that he did everything he absolutely could, but he was just met with a sharp laugh that made his blood run cold. “You think you’ve done everything? You’re wrong.”_

* * *

“Lafayette, get down here right now or I _will_ give tonight’s performance to Jefferson!”

Lafayette giggled from his perch on the second floor of the set. It was set up like an open floor with a front and back railing to keep the actors from falling off because they moved too far forward or back. Lafayette was currently sitting on the front railing, his legs swinging in open air, and Alexander was staring up at him from the stage floor, terrified that his friend was going to slip off.

“He would never accept it even if you tried,” Lafayette teased, leaning a little forward. It was clear that he reveled in Alexander’s protective nature.

“Well if you fall and break your neck then he’s going to _have_ to accept it!” Alexander flinched when Lafayette moved suddenly and then laughed at his reaction. “Will you get down here?!”

Lafayette sighed and leaned back. “The performance is not for another hour! Audience members will not be arriving for thirty minutes. Can’t I have a little fun, monsieur Hamilton?”

“Not if you’re going to risk breaking bones!” Alexander shifted uncomfortably on his heels. He was stressed enough for opening night as it was. Couldn’t his friends stop messing around for once? “ _Please_ get down here!”

For a moment, it seemed as though Lafayette was going to relent and get off safely. But then he suddenly changed his mind and leapt off of the railing. Alexander screamed, but Lafayette simply landed easily on his feet. He bellowed out a laugh.

“You scream like a child!” Lafayette giggled, rising to his feet. “Obviously I wasn’t going to get hurt.”

Alexander was now almost shaking with rage. “I don’t know that! I don’t know how things may have turned out! I didn’t want you getting hurt!!”

“But I didn’t!” Lafayette walked over and patted Alexander’s cheek. “You must not stress yourself so much.”

“It’s what I _do_.” Alexander glared at his friend, but he really was relieved that Lafayette wasn’t hurt. Even aside from the thought of Jefferson having to fill in for him if he broke his leg, Alexander didn’t want Lafayette to get hurt. The thought of any of his friends getting hurt scared him.

There was a tap on his shoulder and Alexander turned to find Hercules grinning at him.

“You heard him scream like a child, yes?” Lafayette asked, his eyebrows wiggling.

Hercules snickered and nodded “I thought it was Pip screaming.” Alexander scoffed and slapped Herc’s arm, which only made his friend laugh harder. Between laughs, he managed to say, “John wanted to see you, Alex. He had a question about his costume.”

Alexander frowned. “Now? It’s opening night! He should have asked me sooner!”

When Hercules just shrugged, Alexander sighed and left the both of them, heading back towards the dressing room. He met John halfway, who was headed towards the stage.

“There you are, Alex,” John said with a grin. “I wanted to know if you wanted me to use the red or blue tie. You always seem to change your mind at every rehearsal so I really need to know which one you want me to wear.”

Alexander frowned as he glanced between the two ties in John’s hands. “I haven’t changed my mind for a week. The blue one is my final choice.”

“Blue it is, then.” John popped up his collar and strung the tie around his neck, but hesitated before he tied it. “Er…Can you do it for me, Alex?”

Alexander smirked, but obliged. “I thought you learned how to tie your own tie after all this time.” He looped the tie around itself as he tied it. “You’re such a child.”

“I can never do it right the first time around. It always ends up too short or too long.” John smirked and adjusted to give Alexander more room to tie it. “Besides, you like it. It makes you feel important.”

Alexander hummed absently. “Oh, yes, I love being everyone’s tie guy. It’s the most important job around. Not nearly as important as being the lead, or the director, or the writer; it’s the _ties_ that really make the show.”

They shared a laugh. Alexander finished and took a step back. John looked down at it and adjusted the knot a bit. “Perfect as always,” John said. “Although I shouldn’t be surprised. You dress like a businessman everyday of your life. You’ve had practice with ties.”

“And for someone who comes from such a rich family, you certainly don’t seem accustomed to the stuffy rich-guy lifestyle.” Alexander liked that about John, though. Despite his wealth, he could still relate to the everyman. Plus, he lent Alexander a bunch of ties and dress shirts—they were expensive, and while Alexander was doing well for himself, he was still used to being frugal due to growing up poor.

John shrugged, looking rather smug at the compliment. “I’m not a stuffy guy. You know that.”

Before Alexander could think of something witty, Eliza ran up behind Alexander and gave him a hug. “Alexander! The first audience members are coming in!”

“Already?” Alexander gasped, checking his watch. Sure enough, there was only half an hour before the show’s opening. His heart picked up in speed. “Oh wow.”

“Oh, I’m so nervous!” Eliza said with a laugh. She released Alexander and fanned herself a bit, her face turning red from the excitement. “Oh, John, hello! Are you ready for the show?”

John shrugged. “As ready as I can be, I suppose. I haven’t done my vocal warmups yet, though.”

Eliza’s eyes widened and she looked positively appalled. “You haven’t—?! John, the show is starting soon! Oh, come with me!” She grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the piano room. John laughed and looked over his shoulder to wave to Alexander.

Alexander waved back, stifling a laugh himself. He was just about to go and check on the other actors to make sure that they were ready, when he heard someone call out for him.

“Mr. Hamilton!” Philip yelled, running over. He was dressed in his costume, although he had only half of his shirt buttoned, so the bottom flaps waved around like a cape, exposing his belly. He seemed too preoccupied to care. “Mr. Hamilton!!”

“What is it, Philip?” Alexander asked, turning towards the boy. Philip approached and tugged on his sleeve. Alexander bent down, like Philip was going to tell him a secret.

Philip cupped his hand over his mouth as he whispered into Alexander’s ear, “Someone’s throwing up in the dressing room bathroom.”

Alexander’s eyes widened. Who would be sick on opening night? Nobody looked ill when he was making his rounds earlier. The audience members were starting to come in as well. Alexander couldn’t afford to have a principal be sick.

“I’ll go take care of it,” he promised, smiling at Philip. “Finish buttoning your shirt and then go find Eliza. Do your vocal warmups with her, alright?”

Philip smiled and nodded. “Alright, Mr. Hamilton!” Then, he was off running, his shirt-cape clapping around him. Some days it seemed like that boy never stopped moving.

But Alexander couldn’t focus on Philip. He quickly headed towards the dressing room, noting the people that he passed. Lafayette, Peggy and Hercules, Angelica, Maria. There was James Madison, too, who was on the phone with someone, arguing in a hushed voice, but with a stronger tone than Alexander had heard from the soft-spoken man in a while.

Alexander arrived at the dressing room and found it empty. Everyone was already dressed and ready to go, so they were warming up in the piano room or talking with one another. It was actually a little comforting to stand in the dressing room alone.

That is, until he heard someone retch.

Alexander’s nose crinkled and he approached the stalls, off to one side, separated by a half wall. He found the stall that was in use, but whoever had run inside hadn’t bothered to lock the stall door behind them before disposing of their waste. Alexander peered inside and felt his own stomach drop.

“Jefferson?”

Jefferson turned his head, looking back at Alexander tiredly. He didn’t even seem to have the energy to glare as he took a couple squares of toilet paper. “What do you want, Hamilton?”

“You’re sick?” Alexander took a couple steps closer, but he didn’t want to completely invade Jefferson’s space when he was sick.

Jefferson shook his head. “No.” He wiped his mouth and threw it into the toilet before flushing.

“You just threw up.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m sick. This happens on the opening night of every show I’m in. I’m just nervous.”

Alexander raised an eyebrow. The great Thomas Jefferson was nervous? He wasn’t even playing Daveed tonight. “You. _Nervous?_ ”

Jefferson sighed and turned to face him. “Yes, Hamilton. Me. I can get nervous.”

“To the point of being _sick?_ ”

“I’m normally don’t actually throw up. But I’m fine.”

Alexander didn’t like it, regardless. He shook his head and stood his ground. “I don’t know if I want you performing when you’re sick, Jefferson.”

Anger flashed through Jefferson’s eyes. “I said I’m _not_ sick. I’m fine. _Great_ , actually. I can be an ensemble.”

“I don’t know if I should let you.” There was something refreshing about arguing with Jefferson. It was a way that Alexander relieved his stress. If he didn’t have a way of letting out his anger all the time, he was pretty sure he would explode on someone he actually cared about. Getting into spats with Jefferson helped him let off some steam without hurting anyone’s feelings. “Especially if you don’t even appreciate the role.”

Jefferson groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not this again. Hamilton, I’m going to perform. You don’t have to make an argument out of this.”

Alexander was counting on this, though. He was still wound up and he needed to be relaxed for the show. He _had_ to fight someone, and he wasn’t about to fight with one of his friends. Jefferson loved to fight him as much as Alexander enjoyed it, so why couldn’t he just go along with it for once?

“You’re always complaining and making things hard for me, so why are you suddenly acting like a saint?” Alexander asked, crossing his arms. “You’ve never stopped complaining _before_.”

Jefferson glared at him. “It’s opening night. I’m not in the mood to complain. It’s not like anything can change at this point.”

Alexander was getting really frustrated. Why couldn’t Jefferson just take the bait and bicker with him?

“You never got anything to change before, either. And that’s for a reason, mind you. None of your ideas would have helped the production, no matter what you like to believe. The director knows best, as they say.” Alexander saw Jefferson’s eye twitch. He was getting to him, but Alexander hated this one-sided fighting. It was helping him unwind a bit, but there wasn’t the same passion in it as there was when Jefferson bit back. “And you _could_ be performing tonight, but you were just too petty to accept my offer. Do you think you’re better than everyone, Jefferson? Is that it? You think that you’re some god among men when it comes to the acting world? Because you’re _not_. You’re human just like everyone else. Or maybe you’re below everyone else, because, as you keep pointing out, you’re just an ensemble member.”

“Don’t,” Jefferson growled as he stared at Alexander. Alexander felt his heart sink when he saw the hostile and yet _hurt_ look in Jefferson’s eyes. “You don’t get to poke and prod me like I’m some animal and you’re waiting to see if I do a trick. You’ve said a lot of things to me, Hamilton, but you do not get to step over that line.”

Alexander’s heart picked up in pace as he stared at Jefferson. He didn’t think that he’d done anything very different from the usual bickering and insults that they’d fling at one another, but clearly something had struck a chord with Jefferson because that was an expression that Alexander rarely saw him wear.

“The show is starting soon,” Jefferson muttered. He moved past Alexander. “You should get to the wings.”

Alexander remained where he was standing for a moment longer. Seeing Jefferson like that, it made Alexander feel…well, he wasn’t quite sure _what_ he felt. But it certainly didn’t help him feel any less stressed.

* * *

The show went well. Better than well, actually. Alexander never felt so alive. As they took their final bow and the applause roared in his ears, Alexander felt tears well up in his eyes. Miranda finally premiered, and it seemed like people loved it. Alexander could not be happier.

As they left the stage, Alexander’s tears fell and he cried, a happy, relieved cry. John slung an arm around his shoulders and Lafayette joined him on Alexander’s other side. Hercules came up behind the three of them and encased them all in his big arms. Alexander laughed, wiping at his eyes.

“You have started a revolution,” Lafayette announced, pinching Alexander’s cheek a bit. “The theatre world will never be the same.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Alexander said, swatting at his friend’s hand, though he laughed anyway. “You all did wonderfully.”

“ _You_ did wonderfully,” said Eliza as she came up on the group. She was sweating from the hot spotlights, but her smile melted Alexander’s heart.

Hercules ruffled Alexander’s hair. “We can’t wait to see all of the great reviews! ‘Alexander Hamilton: the next William Shakespeare!’”

“You all are crazy!” Alexander said, despite his wide grin. “We should get moving. The meet and greeters are waiting for us.”

They moved like a pack, out of the stage and to the back where the meet and greeters awaited. The cast flooded into the room, dispersing to talk to different fans. A lot of them crowded around Alexander, asking him a variety of questions, and Alexander did his best to answer them coherently.

“Yes, I wrote it…Yes, it took a long time. About a decade, actually…Oh, no, those were all Eliza’s choices. She has great intuition on the stage, really. You should go and ask her. She can answer far better than I can…”

Alexander tried to address everyone while still keeping an eye out for the other cast members. He didn’t want too many of the fans to flock to him, and instead wanted them to fan out to talk to the other cast members as well. It seemed everyone was getting an adequate amount of attention, though, which was a relief to Alexander. He felt pretty relaxed; everything was going well.

However, he noticed out of the corner of his eye a specific head of fluffy hair heading towards the door. He turned just in time to see Jefferson duck out. The meet and greet wasn’t even halfway over; what was he doing?

“Will you excuse me for just a moment?” Alexander said to the fans, giving them an apologetic smile. “I shouldn’t be gone for more than few minutes.”

He hurried after Jefferson, feeling his face heat up with anger. Alexander knew that Jefferson was petty, but this was _ridiculous_. There were people who paid good money to meet them, an unknown cast of a new musical, and he just walked out to sulk?

“Jefferson,” Alexander growled as he entered the dressing room. Jefferson was already half out of his costume, and looked back at Alexander with tired eyes.

“What?” he asked, his usual bite in his voice.

Alexander approached with crossed arms. “What do you mean, ‘what’? You’re supposed to be out there at the meet and greet!”

“So are you.”

“I came to get you, because you’re being ridiculously rude right now.”

“Oh, am I? I didn’t realize that people would take offense to an ensemble member leaving a meet and greet when all of the leads were still there. Silly me.” He spoke bluntly as he stepped out of his costume and reached for his civilian clothes.

Alexander felt absolutely livid. “Enough with this stupid self-pity talk! It doesn’t matter if you’re just an ensemble member! People want to talk to you!”

“No, they don’t.” Jefferson glared at Alexander as he stepped into his pants. “They come to me when the other leads are too busy. They smile politely and tell me that I did well, but there’s nothing specific about their comments. They talk about my _hair_ more than they talk about my performance.”

“You’re the one always bitching about your hair, so I would think that that would be a compliment.”

Jefferson scoffed and slipped on his button-up shirt. “Yeah, _that’s_ what I want to be complimented on, Hamilton. Not all of the work I put into my performance, but the time I spent on my _hair_.”

“Will you stop sulking?”

“You know what I find laughable?” Jefferson asked, suddenly turning to him. “Before this show, after you made such a big deal about me making myself sick, you tried to get me to argue with you. You kept taunting me about how I was just an ensemble member who didn’t appreciate the role. Do you actually care about me, or do you just care about your goddamn show?”

Alexander’s expression soured. “I don’t know, Jefferson. I don’t. Every time I try to care about you, you just fight against me! When I try to act indifferent, you accuse me of not caring. What the hell do you want? Because I honestly don’t know anymore!”

“I want to be able to do something worthwhile! And I can’t do that when I’m stuck as an ensemble member or an understudy!”

“Well guess what, Jefferson? That’s what you earned! You didn’t get the principal role and you have to accept that! Stop complaining and wallowing in your own self-pity; you’ve had two months to get over yourself, and you still haven’t!” God, did it feel good to let loose on Jefferson. “It isn’t Lafayette’s fault that you aren’t good enough. It’s your own fault. You’re the one that couldn’t surpass him, and you’re the one that only did good enough to be an understudy. _You_ are the one that failed, Jefferson. So accept your failure, and _move the hell on!_ ”

Jefferson’s eyes were wide and for a moment, Alexander thought with smug confidence that he’d finally gotten Jefferson where he couldn’t get him back. Alexander grinned and was about to make another sly comment regarding Jefferson’s obnoxious nature when he heard Jefferson wheeze. It was a dry, raspy sound that was grating on the ears and didn’t even sound like Jefferson had taken in air at all. Then Jefferson’s hands began to shake and he breathed again, quicker this time but just as ineffectual. His breaths quickly dissolved into thin hyperventilation as Jefferson gripped the counter for dear life. Alexander watched the panicked expression on Jefferson’s face, so full of fear and his eyes blank as though he were suddenly blind.

“J-Jefferson?” Alexander cried with surprise as he rushed over. He’d never seen Jefferson in such a state and it scared him to see the terror painted across his face. “What’s wrong? What's—”

Alexander didn’t get to finish his question before Jefferson’s knees buckled and he sank to the floor. He could only watch as tears dripped down Jefferson’s cheeks, could only listen to Jefferson’s strangled gasps as he curled up on the floor. Alexander’s heartbeat quickened as he lowered to the floor. What was he supposed to _do?_

“Jefferson, you have to tell me what’s wrong,” Alexander said in a quiet voice. “Come on, how can I help?”

Jefferson only shook his head. When Alexander tried to reach out to him, Jefferson slapped his hand away with enough strength to leave Alexander’s hand tingling and bright red. Alexander continued talking to him, but he wasn’t sure if Jefferson even heard what he was saying. Jefferson just stayed where he was, trying to breathe and control the tears that drenched his face.

It took a few minutes, but Jefferson finally seemed to calm down enough to at least breathe easily. He’d stopped crying, too, much to Alexander’s relief. It was when Jefferson laid his head in his hands that Alexander finally dared to speak again.

“Are you okay?” Alexander whispered carefully.

“What the hell do you think?” Jefferson asked in his usual sharp tone but this time there was a sort of tiredness to it. “No, I’m not okay.”

“What was that…?”

“A panic attack, you moron.”

Alexander blinked a couple of times. Panic attack? _That’s_ what that was? He supposed it made sense in hindsight but…this was _Jefferson_ they were talking about! How could someone like him ever get a panic attack? What would he have to be so worried about?

Before he knew what he was saying, Alexander said, “You’re joking, right?”

Jefferson stiffened before letting out a sigh and lifting his head. His expression was angry but his tear-stained eyes made him seem sadder. “Yes. I’m joking. I was hoping that you’d go along with it but it seems you’re smart enough to not be tricked into my devious plot.” Jefferson stood and Alexander felt his heart sink in his chest. “I’m going home.”


	8. What a Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeff gets to perform!

_“What a monster,” a whispy voice said. It coiled around him like smoke and strangled him, like vines growing down his throat. “Just like everyone said you would be.”_

_He shook his head rapidly. He wasn’t a monster. He was better than that. He was alwaysbetter than that! The faint voice just laughed, the sound piercing like ice. “How foolish. You actually think that you can escape your fate?” The voice drew closer and it hissed in his ear, like an inescapable thought, “Oh how wrong you are.”_

* * *

It was quiet and it was spring. The day was late and the weather still held the nip of cold air, like the fleeting call of winter that had been left behind. Hamilton walked down the street, breathing in the crisp air and feeling it burn in his lungs. It was a beautiful day, with the sun beginning to set over the horizon and its rays spreading far over the landscape. It was a day that Hamilton would normally get lost in, hearing his own prose in his head as his hand tapped against his thigh and he thought of everything he could write, and the worlds he could make out of his words. But today his mind was foggy and his steps were slow.

His mind was focused on Jefferson. It seemed that that was where his mind had been falling more and more as of late.

Alexander thought about Jefferson a lot, simply because he was always trying to figure out a way to get Jefferson to behave, or shut up, or stop getting on his last nerve. But after what happened yesterday, Alexander’s thoughts revolved more around what it was that he had done wrong, and what he could do to make it up to Jefferson.

He hadn’t meant to give Jefferson a panic attack. They fought all the time, and Alexander just wanted to let off some steam. They did it all the time during rehearsals, so what had made yesterday so different? Jefferson had been acting different all day. It was like he was a whole different person and Alexander didn’t understand why.

“How does Thomas Jefferson get panic attacks?” Alexander muttered to himself. It seemed impossible. Thomas Jefferson, the great narcissist, couldn’t possibly get panic attacks, right? But Alexander had seen it with his own eyes and there was no way that Jefferson was pretending, no matter how good of an actor he claimed to be. So where had it come from?

Alexander entered the theatre. He’d stepped out to go on a walk before the show. He needed a clear mind before the performance, but the walk had only muddled his thoughts further.

James was sitting backstage, coughing into a Kleenex. Alexander considered leaving him alone for a moment before going over to him anyway.

“Hey James,” Alexander said, hoping that he was hiding his apprehension.

James looked up. “Hello Alex. Do you need something?”

Well, it was now or never. “Yeah, I uh…I had a question. How long has Jefferson had panic attacks?”

James’ eyes widened. “How do you know about those?”

“Uh, well…I sort of saw one.”

“You _saw one?_ ” James rose, and despite being shorter than Alexander, Alexander still felt a little intimidated. “When did you see one?”

“Yesterday.”

“When, yesterday?”

“After the show.”

James stepped closer. Alexander couldn’t tell if the look in James’ eyes was anger or just concern. “What caused it, Alexander?”

“Um…I-I did…”

James was practically pressed up right against Alexander, now. His expression was still unreadable and it made Alexander feel incredibly uncomfortable. “What did you say to him?” James asked, his voice eerily calm.

“Nothing! Well, nothing different from the usual. I just wanted him to fight with me! I didn’t think that it would cause a panic attack!”

His explanation didn’t seem sufficient for James. “Listen to me, Alexander. I know that you think Thomas is a terrible person. But he’s not. I don’t want you to ever hurt him like that again. So, whatever it is that you said to him that triggered the attack, don’t say it ever again.”

“But I don’t even know what I—”

“Then don’t even _speak_ to him again!” James shouted, his calm demeanor breaking for a moment. He sucked in a deep breath and returned to his neutral state. “Stop trying to pick fights with him all the time. He’s not a stress ball for you to lash out at so you can feel relaxed. He’s not just an actor that you can order around, either. He’s a _person_ , Alexander. How is that so hard for you to wrap your head around? Thomas is a person, with feelings, and I’m so tired of watching you continually crush them just because you feel like it. So just leave him alone, or God help me, I will deal with you myself.”

James finally turned and left, leaving Alexander to stare at the space he once occupied. Alexander was completely floored. That was as close to threatening as he’d ever seen James get, and Alexander _really_ didn’t want to risk seeing what he would do to actually make good on his word.

“No talking to Jefferson. Got it,” Alexander mumbled to himself as he headed towards the costume room. The performance was in less than a half hour and he had yet to get dressed. Everyone else was ready, but he was still falling behind.

Once he had his costume in hand, he rushed into the dressing room and got to stripping down. He was initially alone in the room, but that didn’t last long before the door opened and a familiar head of poofy hair poked in.

“You’re not dressed yet?” Jefferson asked, his usual snarky tone clear as crystal. He was dressed in his costume, of course; he was the first to arrive and get ready.

Alexander stayed silent, though. There were a number of things he would like to shoot back at Jefferson, but he wasn’t about to risk James’s threat. Alexander was a little more than intimidated with how James had reacted, so he wasn’t about to risk making the guy _really_ angry.

His silence only seemed to make Jefferson angry, though. “What, you’re ignoring me, now? Don’t you want to destress or something?”

Still not saying a word, Alexander pulled on his shirt and buttoned it up, keeping his eyes focused on the counter rather than the mirror, so he wouldn’t have to look at Jefferson. He heard Jefferson move closer.

“Ignoring your actors isn’t very professional, Hamilton, especially when I’m going to be acting alongside you.” Jefferson was right behind him now, arms crossed. When Alexander glanced up at the mirror, he met Jefferson’s glare briefly before quickly looking down again. “Or did you maybe forget that you gave me the Daveed performance tonight?”

Alexander slipped the tie around his neck and set to tying the knot.

“Is this about yesterday?” Alexander had to freeze for a moment. Jefferson’s voice was suddenly much softer, and he hadn’t expected the change. “Because I’m not a child. You don’t have to ignore me.”

Once the knot was tied, Alexander turned and headed towards the door, still without looking at Jefferson. Unfortunately, Jefferson followed right at his heels.

“You’re the one being childish, doing this. How do you expect us to perform well if you’re acting like a little boy who’s been slighted by his mother?” Jefferson asked, his voice beginning to rise back to its snarky, harsh tone. “Is this your strategy? Get me to get pissed at you enough by ignoring me so you can blow up on me and feel justified? Or do you just like watching me make a fool of myself?”

Alexander held his breath, hoping he could make it backstage and Jefferson could finally drop this and focus on the show. He was only a few feet away from the door when Jeffers on grabbed his arm and yanked him to a stop. He forced Alexander to turn and face him and Alexander had no choice but to look him in the eyes.

“What kind of bullshit are you trying to pull?” Jefferson demanded. “This isn’t like you at _all_ and if you think you’re doing me a favor or something, you can drop it! Don’t you want to yell at me? Get me to fight? I’m ready to! Isn’t this what you wanted yesterday?!”

Suddenly Alexander was ripped out of Jefferson’s grip and there were two bodies in front of him, separating him from Jefferson, while a protective arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“Leave him alone, Jefferson,” John barked from Alexander’s side.

Hercules and Lafayette nodded in agreement as they shielded Alexander from Jefferson. “Why are you always trying to pick fights with him?” Hercules asked.

Jefferson looked positively offended. “ _I’m_ the one always trying to pick fights? Is that what he tells you?”

“It’s what we see,” Lafayette said with an upturned nose. Jefferson stared at him.

“I get that you’re his best friend now,” Jefferson growled, “but you must be _blind_ if you only ever see me picking fights with him.”

“Guys, it’s fine,” Alexander said softly. He really didn’t need this kind of drama between his actors before they put on the show. “We have to get ready for the show, please.”

John nodded. “That’s right, Jefferson. The show is starting. Get a move on!”

Jefferson glared but did indeed leave. He headed backstage, and once the door shut, Alexander’s friends turned back to him.

“Are you alright?” John asked, his voice so full of care and concern. “I knew that Jefferson could be a dick, but this is just ridiculous. It looked like he was about to punch you!”

“He wasn’t going to punch me.” Alexander stared at his friends, not sure if he was grateful or not for their help. While he was glad to be away from Jefferson, it wasn’t Jefferson that was the problem. Alexander was the one that was just trying to avoid him. “You guys didn’t have to do that. I just…” He shook his head and looked at the ground. “I’m just trying not to talk to him.”

Lafayette frowned and put a comforting hand on Alexander’s shoulder. “Did he do something to you, _mon ami_?”

“No, no he didn’t. I’m just trying to avoid him. It’s fine, really. I just need time away from him, you know?” When the gang didn’t look convinced, he added, “It’s _fine!_ ”

“We believe you,” said Hercules.

“We just don’t want you to have to fight him alone,” Lafayette added.

Alexander just shrugged. “The show starts soon. I’ll be fine.”

He headed backstage, trying to escape his friends before they could push him further. He didn’t feel like admitting that not only did Jefferson have panic attacks, but Alexander had caused one. The show was about to start, and he could hear the loud chattering of everyone in the house. He took a deep breath, trying to center himself and get into the mindset of his character.

“Alex,” he heard a soft voice whisper behind him. He turned around and found Eliza smiling behind him, her hands on Philip’s shoulders, who was also grinning up at him. “Break a leg tonight.”

Alexander felt himself relax considerably and he mirrored her smile. “Not literally,” he replied. It was a little ritual they told one another before every rehearsal, and it carried over to the performance nights as well. Break a leg—but not literally.

He put a hand on Philip’s head and had to fight the urge to ruffle his hair, since he didn’t want to mess it up literally minutes before the show.

“Do you best, Mr. Hamilton!” Philip whispered. “Let’s have another great show!”

Alexander nodded in agreement. He watched them go, heading to their respectful places on stage. The stage manager looked to Alexander and waved her hand, a silent notice that it was time for the show to begin. Alexander took another deep breath and took his spot, center stage.

When he took his spot, Alexander caught sight of Jefferson off to his left, standing on part of the stairs to the second floor of the set. Jefferson met his eyes and his expression was unreadable. Alexander’s gaze lingered for a moment before he looked front and center once more. When the curtains opened and the spotlight hit his face, Alexander was gone and only Lin remained.

* * *

The show had gone well at first. Alexander did well, the others did well, and it seemed like it was going to be a great show. Until his squad began getting into trouble.

Admittedly, Alexander hadn’t noticed it at first. He was so deep into his character and the show that he hadn’t noticed how Lafayette kept bumping into Jefferson during the choreography and throwing him a little off balance, or Hercules moved his props on stage a bit so he would fumble to grab them when they weren’t where he remembered putting them, or that Laurens cut him off on their overlapping lines just a little too soon. Alexander finally noticed when Hercules moved Jefferson’s chair back just an inch and Jefferson missed the seat completely, falling on his ass in the middle of his monologue.

Alexander’s eyes went wide when laughter rippled through the audience and Jefferson froze for a moment. Hercules had to suppress his snort of laughter. Jefferson was in the middle of a serious monologue that was supposed to transition into his solo for the night. Now the immersion was lost, with this sudden break in the scene.

But then, Jefferson was standing up and brushing himself off like it was no big deal. He continued with his monologue as though it never happened, and he didn’t even include a witty retort to explain his sudden fall. Alexander normally would have been fine with it, except that Jefferson’s words sounded more mechanical and deliberate. Alexander glanced him over with a longer stare than normal. There was definitely something wrong.

“And while it may be impossible for you to realize, I really am a man of my word. I…” Then, suddenly, Jefferson froze. His mouth hung open and Alex saw the panic illuminated in his eyes. He was blanking on his line, and it was the line leading into the song.

“What?” Alexander jumped in. He wasn’t about to leave Jefferson to flounder. It was only about two seconds of silence, but for a theatre cast, that could feel like hours. “Man of your word or not, you think I actually expect you to just pack up and move across the country?”

Jefferson looked at Alexander, his expression flickering for a moment, like he didn’t quite understand why he was picking this up for him. But then Daveed overcame his features and he replied, “Yes. Because I’m going to make a name for myself.”

There it was. The music began and Jefferson continued into his solo. Alexander stayed where he was, watching, as Lin wasn’t supposed to do anything during the song. He actually felt a small swell of pride in his heart as Jefferson performed. He now knew that Jefferson was apparently insecure about playing Daveed, like he felt like he wasn’t good enough because Lafayette was the principal and he was just the understudy. But it was always during this song, for even just a split second, that Alexander wondered if Jefferson should have gotten the principal role instead.

* * *

The rest of the show actually did go well. When he was backstage, Alexander sought out his three friends and quietly scolded them for acting so childish and made sure that they wouldn’t interfere with Jefferson’s performance anymore. Laurens tried to argue and say that it was just to teach him a lesson not to be so mean to Alexander anymore, and Alexander had to restrain himself from shouting backstage. His friends promised to behave themselves, and they did, much to Alexander’s relief.

Once the show was over and they had taken their final bow, the cast headed out to the meet and greet. Alexander was relieved to see that people actually went up to Jefferson, talking excitedly about his performance. It was the first time Alexander had seem Jefferson so happy and pleased. His bright smile kind of warmed Alexander’s heart.

But soon the meet and greet was over and Alexander remembered his place in all of this. He wasn’t supposed to talk to Jefferson, so he did his best to avoid him, even going so far as to change out of his costume in the piano room instead of the dressing room where he knew Jefferson would be.

Alexander almost got out without seeing Jefferson. He was just making sure that everyone had left and was heading out himself when Jefferson appeared out of nowhere. And he was _pissed_.

“You do not get to leave without talking to me, Hamilton,” Jefferson barked, glaring as he advanced. Alexander stumbled backwards, surprised at Jefferson’s appearance. He backed up against a wall and glanced around. He really _didn’t_ want to deal with this right now. “What, are you still ignoring me?”

“Just let me go home,” Alexander mumbled, still avoiding eye contact.

That didn’t seem to be Jefferson’s plan, though. He cornered Hamilton and he looked like he was absolutely fuming. “Oh, so he can talk! I was starting to think you’d been replaced with an alien, since you normally never shut up. So, what’s your deal? Why have you been ignoring me all day?”

Alexander gulped and shook his head. He _really_ didn’t want to do this right now. It was a long day and he just wanted to go home.

“What, you can’t even think of an excuse? Just tell me why you’re being such a child, Hamilton!” Jefferson’s voice was growing louder by the word. “You can’t just do all of this stuff in the span of a few days and then flat out ignore me! You can’t say what a good actor and person I am, then make fun of me and give me a goddamn panic attack, only to pretend like nothing is wrong and that you won’t even _talk to me!_ So what is it? What did I do, Hamilton?! What did I do wrong _this_ time?!”

Alexander shut his eyes tightly against Jefferson’s loud voice and reached out to try and push him away.

Jefferson caught his arm. “JUST GIVE ME AN ANSWER!” he roared, digging his nails into Alexander’s arm. Alexander cried out against the sharp pain, and like a switch had been flipped, Jefferson dropped his arm and took a couple steps back. Alexander glanced up at and met Jefferson’s eyes, which looked just as shocked and afraid as Alexander felt.

“I’m going home,” Alexander mumbled, hurrying off to leave. This time, Jefferson let him go.


	9. Two Men in a Box

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient with my hiatus! A regular update schedule should resume again.

_Two men sat in a box. They kept looking at the other, expecting them to make the first move, to try to get them out of there, to say something. But the other always thought the same of the first. Nothing changed, and the men sat there, for days on end, until finally the box was opened and they were released._

_“Why didn’t you ever try to escape?” the rescuer asked, looking at them. “The box wasn’t taped down. One of you just had to move and push it open._

_The men exchanged their usual glance. “I thought it would make the other uncomfortable if I moved,” they replied._

* * *

“It’s Georgie’s fault for being a bass hole.”

Alexander nearly dropped the tissue as he tried to bite back his laughter. He failed, of course, and his howls echoed in the tiny dressing room. Philip only stared at him, confused, as he held the tissue against his bloody nose.

“What?” Philip asked with a small frown. “Mr. Laurens said that’s what people call mean jerks.”

Alexander bit his tongue so he could get a hold of himself. When he was certain he wouldn’t laugh anymore, he said, “Well don’t say that around Mrs. Schuyler. I don’t think she’d like it.” Alexander could already picture Angelica strangling John for planting such thoughts in the boy’s head.

“Can I say it around Miss Schuyler?” Philip asked with wide eyes.

Eliza might’ve been even worse. “No, not her either.”

“Peggy?”

Alexander put his hand on Philip’s shoulder and dabbed once more at his nose with a fresh tissue. “I think it’s best for everyone that you don’t say it anymore, Phillip. It offends some people.”

“Why?”

“Because they don’t like fish.” Alexander peeled back the tissue, stained red with blood, to look at Philip’s nose closer. It looked like the bleeding stopped, at least. “You said George Eacker did this to you?”

Philip nodded, frowning with a huff. “I pushed him after school because he made fun of Theo’s hair. Theo got a haircut yesterday and Georgie said that it looked stupid. I told him that he looked stupid and then he punched me.”

“And you came here before getting a teacher or telling your parents? Philip, I know I play your dad in the musical, but you should have gotten someone else.”

“I was afraid I’d get in trouble at school because I started it with the push. Mom would have been really worried and Dad would have gotten really mad. I knew you wouldn’t be as upset.”

Alexander frowned and wiped away the excess blood that had started to dry. “Of course, I’m upset! Some bully punched my kid and gave him a bloody nose! If I didn’t have to clean you up, I would have gone and yelled at the kid myself!”

A wide grin bloomed on Philip’s face. “I’m your kid?”

He ruffled Philip’s hair. “Theatre son or not, you’re always gonna be my kid, Pip.” That made Philip grin even wider.

“I’ll be the best son, Dad! The best there ever was! No one is gonna hurt you, not on my watch!” He looked past Alexander and a determined expression overtook his face. “Like this bass hole!!”

“What did I say about using that wor—” Alexander stopped when he turned and saw who the bass hole was. Jefferson was standing at the door to the dressing room, arms crossed. He slowly looked back at Philip. “Go and get Eliza to finish cleaning you up, alright?”

“But I said I was gonna protect you!”

Alexander smiled and ruffled Philip’s hair one more time. “I don’t need protecting, Pip. I promise. We have a show in an hour, so go and have Eliza clean you up, alright, son?”

Philip didn’t look happy, but the son comment convinced him. He walked towards the door and stopped just in front of Jefferson. He looked up at Jefferson with the same hellish sneer that Alexander had seen on his grown friends. “If you hurt him like Mr. Laurens said you did, you’ll be hearing from me!”

Jefferson’s eyebrows rose as Philip left. He glanced between Alexander and the retreating Philip. “He’s growing more and more like John every day. I don’t think anyone wants that.” His expression grew impassive again as he lingered at the doorway, but finally Jefferson took the last few steps into the dressing room.

Alexander’s heart raced as Jefferson approached him. He couldn’t read Jefferson’s expression, and thus didn’t know what he was going to do. Alexander knew that he messed up, but seeing Jefferson so pissed off the day before had shaken him to his core. He knew that if he just tried to avoid him, then it would only make things worse. Alexander just braced himself.

“Hamilton, I wanted to apologize—”

“James told me to not talk to you.”

They both stopped and stared at one another.

“What?” Jefferson asked with a small frown.

Alexander looked down at his shoes. “I talked to James about how I gave you a panic attack—which I’m really sorry about, by the way, I wasn’t trying to give you a panic attack, I swear—he told me that I shouldn’t talk to you or he would do something about it.”

Jefferson actually let out a snort of laughter. “James threatened you to make you shut up? I wish I knew that that’s all it would take to get you to stop talking to me.”

“But you hated that I was ignoring you.”

“Because I didn’t know why. I thought you were just being petty or something.” He sighed and glanced away. “But I just ended up acting petty instead. I’m sorry, my behavior went too far.”

Alexander couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not only was Thomas Jefferson apologizing, but he was apologizing to _him_. It seemed that Thomas Jefferson was demonstrating a lot of amazing behavior in the past few days.

“It’s, uh, it’s fine. I hurt you, you hurt me. You know. An eye for an eye.”

Jefferson didn’t seem very comfortable with that logic. He shifted a bit and shrugged. “Well. I just wanted to apologize, for how rude I was. And for hurting you yesterday.”

Alexander touched his arm. There was a light bruise, but no permanent damage had been done. “It’s fine. It didn’t hurt that much.”

They remained silent for a moment longer. Alexander despised how awkward things were between them now. He didn’t like fighting with Jefferson, but at least that kept things from feeling uncomfortable. Now even being in the same room with each other was unbearable. Alexander didn’t want to leave things like this.

“I have to go to the corner store and pick up some aspirin for James,” Jefferson said suddenly, making his way towards the door. It was obvious that he was using it as an excuse to get away from Alexander.

Oh boy, was Alexander going to regret this.

“I’ll come with you,” Alexander said, walking behind Jefferson. Jefferson glanced back at him, looking horrified at the suggestion.

“You don’t have to come with me. I’m not going to get lost.”

Alexander shook his head. “No, I need to pick up some stuff for Philip’s bloody nose.”

“It looked just about healed up.”

“This is just in case.”

Jefferson gave Alexander a hard look. It was clear that he didn’t buy that Alexander was going with him just to get his own stuff. Alexander didn’t even know what he was trying to accomplish, really. How was annoying Jefferson by joining him on his walk to the drug store supposed to make things less awkward for the both of them?

Alexander hoped that they would be able to make some sort of small talk on the way to the store, but they were both silent. It was uncomfortable. It was beyond awkward. And Alexander really hated it.

In an attempt to just fill the silence, Alexander spotted a dumpster and gestured to it as they passed by. “Hey, I didn’t know you had a twin.” He grinned, but when he saw the shocked look on Jefferson’s face, it quickly melted away. Jabbing at Jefferson wasn’t as fun as it used to be. It only made Alexander feel anxious and kind of…bad. “…Sorry.”

It was another solid minute of silent walking before Jefferson said, “Why are you doing this, Hamilton?”

Alexander glanced at him. Jefferson was still looking forward, like he couldn’t care less about him, but Alexander knew he hadn’t imagined the question. He looked forward as well. “Because we’ve both been asses to each other and I don’t think that should continue.”

“And why not?”

“Because you’re not a bad person.”

That earned a look from Jefferson. Alexander saw him, in his peripheral vision. Jefferson didn’t believe him. Alexander couldn’t blame him, really. He’d kind of given him mixed signals the past few days.

“Somehow,” said Jefferson, “I can’t believe that.”

“But I mean it. You’re not a bad person. You just…act questionably sometimes. You do bad things and that’s what makes people…dislike you.”

“People _hate_ me, you mean,” Jefferson said, crossing his arms. He stopped walking to face Alexander. “That’s why I act the way I do.”

Alexander shrugged. “Well maybe if you weren’t so terrible, people would like you more.”

“Maybe if people weren’t so terrible to me, I could be more likable.”

Alexander stared at Jefferson for a long moment, as though challenging him to evaluate if he really thought that or not. Jefferson didn’t seem to waver, so Alexander broke first and looked away. They didn’t have time to argue like this all the time. They had to get to the store. Alexander started walking again, and Jefferson followed suit.

The store was nearly empty, except for the cashier and an old woman insisting that she had coupons to pay for her items even though the store didn’t take coupons.

Jefferson found the medicine for James and Alexander got the items for Philip. He really did hope that Philip’s nose bleed was healed completely and that he wouldn’t need any additional bandages or gauze. They paid for their items, after waiting an additional ten minutes while the lady argued and Jefferson finally had to sweet talk his way into getting the lady to kindly shut up and leave.

“I did not tell her to shut up and leave,” Jefferson said as they left the shop.

Alexander was still cackling with laughter. “You told her that the guy wouldn’t take any coupons and she would be holding up the line for so long that it would create a fire hazard so she should just pay for her things and move on before her hearing aid ran out of batteries. You told her to shut up and leave in the most poetic and wordy way possible.”

Jefferson shrugged, but Alexander saw him grin. Alexander never thought he’d be grateful for slow-moving old women holding up the line, but he felt more at ease with Jefferson now, and he hoped that Jefferson felt the same.

Alexander didn’t want to feel awkward around Jefferson all the time. But he had no idea how to go about fixing that. After fighting with him for the past few months of rehearsal and downright hating his guts, it was strange to start changing so radically. Alexander didn’t exactly like him yet, but at least he could stand being in his presence. And they weren’t fighting each other on every issue anymore, which had to count for something.

They arrived back at the theatre with half an hour before show time. Jefferson left to give James the medicine and Eliza intercepted Alexander before he could attempt to linger after him.

“Eliza,” Alexander greeted with a warm smile. “Did Pip find you?”

She nodded. “He told me about his fight with George Eacker. I called his parents just to let them know. They sounded upset, but when Philip insisted that he could still perform, they relented. I finished cleaning his nose, too.” She gave him a look that suppressed a smile. “I thought he wasn’t allowed to say ‘bass hole’ anymore.”

Alexander groaned. “I _told_ him to stop saying that, Eliza, I swear I did.”

Eliza only giggled. “I know you did. He apologized right afterwards. But I swear, he spends way too much time with John. He’s not the _best_ influence, you know.” She reached out to straighten his jacket a bit. “You should get changed _before_ you perform, you know. But before that, you have a visitor in the piano room.”

“A visitor?” Alexander repeated, surprised. He rarely had visitors during rehearsals, and he hadn’t expected any during the show’s run. “Thanks, Eliza. I’ll get changed after.” He started to head towards the piano room.

“If I don’t see you before the opening number, break a leg!” Eliza called after him.

Alexander flashed her a grin over his shoulder. “Not literally.”

When he entered the piano room, he was surprised to find that it was George Washington who awaited him, plucking out keys on the piano with no discernible melody. He smiled when he noticed Alexander come in.

“George,” said Alexander. He walked over and leaned on the piano. “What are you doing here? What can I do for you?”

George smiled as he rose to his feet. “I can’t even get a ‘how are you?’ I’m a very busy man and I’ve taken time out of my day to see you.” He laughed. “I’m kidding, of course. I stopped by to see how you were doing. I’ve heard good things about the show so far. But I’ve also heard that you and Thomas have been fighting a lot. Still.”

Alexander shifted on his feet. “Not as much, sir. We did fight but I think things are getting better. And I’m not just saying that. We just got back from the store together.”

“Really? And you didn’t fight all the way there?”

“No. We had a nice time.” Alexander shifted again. He always felt uncomfortable under George’s gaze, despite him being a kind man. “I do want to be able to be on better terms with him. I just don’t know how to do that.”

George nodded, looking back down at the piano and running his fingers over the keys. “Have you tried…talking to him?”

“Of course I have. We always fight.”

“Because you talk about stupid things, Alexander. I mean having an actual conversation with him.” George lifted his gaze back to look at Alexander. “Invite him over to see a movie, or go get coffee with him, or just ask him how his day was. Don’t focus on the show for once, because that’s what you always fight about.”

Alexander frowned. “I don’t think Jefferson would like any of that.”

“You don’t think he would because you’re obsessed with the idea that you can’t get along. You get into a lot of trouble, Alexander, but I believe you can at least be civil with someone.” George walked over to Alexander and smiled. “You worked so hard to get this show off the ground. Try putting some of that effort into befriending Thomas. Then you won’t have to stress about any drama with him popping up and disrupting the show.”

Alexander knew George was right, but that didn’t mean that he really wanted to agree with him. Yes, he wanted things to be less awkward between him and Jefferson, but spending time with him outside of the show? Jefferson didn’t even want to walk together to the drug store.

“I’ll…keep that in mind,” Alexander said finally.

“Good. Maybe now Gilbert will stop bothering me about the two of you always fighting.”

“Laf told you about that?”

“Of course he did. He insisted that Jefferson kept causing trouble for you and the others, but I know how the _both_ of you can be.” George smiled again and gestured for Alexander to follow him as he headed to the door. “Now. I expect a good show tonight.”


	10. The Witch of the East

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone up for a coffee date?

_The Witch of the East was a terrible witch who everyone knew was terrible. She had done awful things, they said. Unspeakable things. Things that would scare you. If you tried to ask anyone exactly what they did, they couldn’t say. But it was terrible, they could assure you of that. If you asked if there was anything good about her, no one could say a thing. Nobody knew anything._

_But she was terrible, they could assure you. The Witch of the East came from a terrible family, after all. And she’d done bad things in the past. Have you met her? She had an awful personality. It proved how horrible she was. Even if no one spoke with her, they all knew what she was like. So the Witch of the East continued to be a terrible witch who everyone knew was terrible._

* * *

Alexander sat anxiously in his apartment, checking the time periodically. He had done what George suggested and asked Jefferson if he wanted to come over and get coffee. Alexander had considered going out for coffee but he was worried about them getting into a fight and making a scene like they always seem to do. Sure, going to the store was fine the day before, but they had spent maybe fifteen minutes in one another’s company. If Alexander was going to attempt to get on Jefferson’s good side, they would have to spend hours with one another and frankly…Alexander couldn’t see that going well.

Jefferson had said yes, but he also made mention of the fact that he had no idea why Alexander wanted to do this. Honestly, Alexander wasn’t really sure why he wanted to either. Sure, he wanted to have a better relationship with Jefferson so things wouldn’t be so awkward, but things were going to be awkward in the meantime. It hardly seemed like the best course of action.

“Come on,” Alexander mumbled, glancing at the clock again. Jefferson had only given him a sort of window as to when he would come over, but who gives a whole hour as a window? What if Jefferson had only given that window to get Alexander off of his back but he wasn’t actually going to show up? What if—

There was knock at the door and Alexander’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He stood and forced himself to walk to the door. He had no idea why he was still this jittery. Was he just anxious about Jefferson coming over, and potentially messing up so badly that they never make up? Maybe.

Alexander opened the door. Jefferson was waiting outside, hands in his pockets, a cocky look on his face. For a moment, Alexander thought that he looked just as he had a couple of weeks ago, when he saw Jefferson under the streetlamp after rehearsals. But then Jefferson looked at him and the moment was lost.

“Erm…come in,” Alexander said, stepping aside. Jefferson walked in and Alexander showed him around. It was a pretty tiny apartment, so really the only place to lounge was in the kitchenette that was connected to the living area. Total, there was only enough space for a couch, a small television, and a small table. Alexander wondered what kind of house Jefferson lived in, and if this was quaint compared to his home.

Alexander went over to the coffee pot, which was nearly done brewing the coffee. “How do you like your coffee?” he asked over his shoulder.

“A lot of sugar and cream,” Jefferson replied as he took a seat at the kitchen table.

Alexander frowned. “What, you drown out all the coffee with that stuff? Why would you ruin the taste of coffee?”

Jefferson returned his look with an expression of equal distaste. “Coffee is disgusting. I like being well caffeinated, but if there was any other, better form, I would drink that instead. Caffeinated tea just doesn’t do it for me, really.”

“Wait.” Alexander whirled around and brought his palms down on the kitchen table. “Don’t tell me you’re a _tea drinker?!_ ”

“Of course I am. Tea is better than coffee in many forms, including taste.”

Alexander looked positively scandalized at such a claim. “Tea is disgusting! The colonies threw the stuff in the harbor because of how awful it tasted!”

Jefferson rolled his eyes and tried to fight a smile that was forming. “Okay, I _know_ that you’re not that stupid. They did that over taxes.”

“No, I think it was because of how awful it was. The British were forcing the tea onto them and they didn’t want it, because coffee was the true drink.” Alexander smirked.

“Wow, Alexander. I didn’t know you were as stupid as you were insufferable.”

“ _Oh_ , I’m insufferable now?” Alexander cried with a laugh. “What fancy words! But you need to just accept that you’re in the wrong, Jefferson. Just admit that you’ve made a mistake.”

Jefferson scoffed. “Mistake, my ass!”

“Yeah, your ass was a mistake!”

There was a beat of silence as Alexander’s words processed for the both of them. Jefferson burst into laughter and Alexander was quick to follow, the room being filled with their giggles and snorts.

“I can’t believe we’re fighting about coffee and tea,” said Alexander. The coffee machine beeped and he turned to pour them some cups, still snickering. “How low have we sunk, Jefferson?”

Jefferson gained control of his laughter faster than Alexander but he still chuckled for a moment longer. “You’ve sunk lower than me before. Hell, you brought my ass into this conversation. I’m not surprised.” He watched Alexander pour the coffee and get out the cream and sugar. Alexander brought it all over to the table and set everything down. Jefferson helped himself to the sugar and cream, pouring I into his coffee so the black color immediately turned into a milky brown. As he stirred his drink, he asked softly, “Why did you invite me here?”

Alexander glanced at Jefferson as he took a sip of his black coffee. He set the mug down and shrugged. “George was concerned about how we fought before and I said that things were awkward since, you know, the thing. And so, he said we should just spend time together and recommended getting coffee or something. I didn’t want us to end up fighting in public, so I thought this was for the best.”

Jefferson frowned a bit. He set aside the spoon he was using to stir. “Ah,” he said.

There was a long span of silence as Alexander sipped his coffee. Dammit, things were awkward again. Couldn’t they go back to laughing about Jefferson’s ass?

“Alright, that’s it,” Alexander sighed as he sat back in his chair. “Tell me what I need to do so things aren’t awkward.”

Jefferson raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Things are still weird. I know, you know it, even George knows it and he isn’t in the show. I’m sick of fighting and I’m sick of things getting awkward. So let’s talk it out, or whatever. Eliza is always telling me to talk about my problems, so we can talk together.” Alexander looked at Jefferson expectantly. “So why are you…an ass to people?” It was the simplest way to put it.

"Everyone hates me," Jefferson said, crossing his arms. "That's why I act the way I do."

Well that was hardly a clear answer. Alexander shrugged. "Well maybe if you weren't so terrible, people would like you more."

"Maybe if people weren't so terrible to me, I could be more likable."

Alexander frowned. “You think people are terrible to you?”

“When I played Daveed a couple days ago, your friends spent the entire first act attempting to sabotage my performance. I think that’s pretty terrible.”

“They thought that you did something to me so they were just trying to defend me. I told them to knock it off.”

Jefferson sighed. “Yes, but nobody would ever do something like that to _you_. Even when I hated you, I would never dream of actually trying to sabotage your performance.”

Alexander paused for a brief moment. “You don’t hate me anymore?”

There was another pause on Jefferson’s end. “No. Most of my frustrations with you weren’t really because of _you_. I was just always bitter about being the understudy…I don’t know if I ever actually _hated_ you.” Jefferson picked up his mug. “Do you still hate me?”

Alexander shook his head. “No. I never really tried to think of what you did from an outside perspective. I never do that for anyone really. So seeing a different side of you…I can’t really think of you as the same dick I fought with all the time, you know?”

Jefferson chortled with a nod. “I could be pretty terrible. I still can be, probably. I don’t know why you didn’t just fire me.”

“Because you’re talented.” Alexander traced the rim of his mug. “I know that you’re an understudy, but even if I fought with you, you have real talent. I didn’t want to get rid of that and scramble to find someone else in the midst of the rehearsals.”

Jefferson took a sip and looked conflicted for a moment before saying, “If I’m so talented, then why did I still just get an understudy role?”

Alexander sighed. This again. He knew that it was going to continue being an issue if he wasn’t outright and just addressed it. Alexander saw how Jefferson could be when it came to the issue of a being a principal versus just being an understudy. He didn’t want this to keep being something weighing Jefferson down.

“Because you didn’t play Daveed right,” Alexander said. “I knew that you were a well-known actor, but I’d never seen any of your shows and I had never worked with you. And in the audition, you were great, but you didn’t play Daveed how I imagined him. Lafayette played him closer to the character than you did. So, I cast him. I didn’t know you and I didn’t know how easily you could change the way you play a character after a few pointers. But the casting had already been decided and there was no changing it.”

Jefferson stared at Alexander with hard eyes. “So if you had known that, would you have cast me as the principal?”

Alexander looked down into his coffee. There was a long silence. “You’re going to be upset whether I say yes or no.”

Jefferson took a drink. When he set the mug down, he said, “I know.”

There was another bout of silence as they drank their coffee. Alexander finally began talking again, asking Jefferson bout what he did outside of the show. They shared their interests, like Alexander’s desire to write a novel and Jefferson’s love of dance.

“I’ve been taking dance lessons for two decades and you still harp on me about my dancing,” said Jefferson with a laugh. “I could hardly believe my ears when you told me I was the worst dancer in the group!”

“You are when it comes to _the show’s_ dance routine!” Alexander argued, grinning. “You just admitted that you’re classically trained! That’s much different from the experimental dancing that we use in the show and you know it.”

They talked about their favorite foods and how Jefferson still missed the good food of the south and Alexander wished for authentic Caribbean cuisine that wasn’t prepared by a family that moved from Kansas. Jefferson learned that Alexander had graduated from high school early and Alexander learned that Jefferson was sent through private schools his entire student life.

“I knew you were rich, but that’s ridiculous,” Alexander said. “It was like Hogwarts type stuff? With dorms year-round? No wonder you grew up to be so pretentious.”

“At least I’m not some kid genius, graduating high school early,” Jefferson shot back.

“I’m no kid genius. Did you know Burr graduated at fifteen?”

The two talked for a couple of hours, sharing another cup of coffee together despite Jefferson’s insistence that coffee was awful. Alexander even managed to find a couple tea bags from when Burr came over and wanted tea rather than the usual coffee brew. When it was finally time for Jefferson to leave, they were fascinated with how much they honestly had never known about one another.

“I guess George had the right idea for us to get to know one another,” said Jefferson as he lingered at Alexander’s front door. “Thanks for inviting me over.”

Alexander smiled and nodded. “No problem. It was fun, Jefferson.”

He looked at Alexander for a moment. “Call me Thomas.”

“What?”

“I want you to call me Thomas. No more of this ‘Jefferson/Hamilton’ nonsense. We’re not school bullies calling one another out.”

Alexander smiled. “Alright. Thanks for coming. I’ll see you tomorrow…Thomas.”

Thomas smiled. “See you tomorrow, Alexander.”

Alexander watched Thomas go from his balcony, making sure that he got into his car safely. It wasn’t late, but he sun was setting. Thomas waved at him before getting into his car, and a couple minutes later, he was driving off. Alexander went back inside and began washing out the coffee cups.

“He’s not such a dick after all,” Alexander mused. “Who would have thought?”


	11. Rich Man/Poor Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics Thomas sings are from Leslie Odom Jr.’s song "I Know That You Know". Just imagine it’s instead in a similar music style as "What Did I Miss": upbeat and ridiculously catchy.

_“A poor man buys expensive things to bring himself status and fame; you are looked upon better when you’re rich than when you’re poor.” The old woman grinned and fed thread through her needle. But a rich man, he dresses down. He doesn’t want to appear rich, because that’s when nobody gives you a proper talking to.”_

_The boy frowned. “That’s not true, Grandma. I’ve seen plenty of rich men actually wearing rich clothing.”_

_“That’s because they don’t know any better. A friendship between the poor and the rich show them their differences.” The old woman smiled and set down her embroidery. “A rich man wants to be respected for more than his money, but a poor man won’t be respected unless he has money.”_

* * *

“Of all the people I expected you to pick for fuck/marry/kill, I did not expect Jar Jar Binks to be one of them.”

John giggled as Lafayette glared at him from across the table. Alexander watched from his own seat, twirling Chinese noodles onto his fork. Hercules was hunched over a bowl of rice, attempting to shovel it into his mouth using chopsticks and failing miserably.

“You do realize that I’m just going to kill him, right?” Lafayette said challengingly, dipping his spring roll into some sauce.

John gasped and leaned forward. “But Laf, there’s still _Napoleon_ on the table. Are you saying you’d really have sex with or marry the French dictator who brings such shame to the French nation?”

Lafayette’s eye twitched and he glared with hot fury. “I hate you so much.”

“At least I gave you Marie Antoinette! That’s practically a freebie. I could have said Ronald McDonald or something. You feel like getting it on with a clown?”

Lafayette nearly gagged, causing another wave of laughter to hit John. Alexander rolled his eyes and stuffed the noodles in his mouth.

“Fine,” Lafayette grumbled after some debate. “I’ll marry Marie, fuck Napoleon, and kill Jar Jar.”

John gasped dramatically. “You would let that horrendous dictator near you?”

“ _I am not having sex with Jar Jar Binks!_ ” Lafayette roared.

John cackled and Alexander tried to suppress his own giggles, for fear that Lafayette would yell at him too. Alexander instead shoved his mouth full of noodles and focused on eating instead. While Lafayette continued to explain in gruesome detail exactly what it was about Jar Jar Binks’s anatomy that would make sex a terrible experience, Thomas walked in.

“Is James around?” he asked, glancing around the room and finding his own answer. “Hmm, I suppose not. I’ll leave you, then.”

“Wait!” John cried out, still trying to settle his laughter. “Wait, Alex, it’s your turn.”

Alexander frowned with his mouth his mouth full of noodles. “My turn for what?” he asked around the noodles.

“Fuck/marry/kill. You have: George Washington, John Adams, and Jefferson.” John jammed his thumb in Thomas’s direction, who only watched with a raised eyebrow.

Alexander frowned as well and swallowed. He considered his options for a brief minute before saying, “I’d fuck Thomas, marry George, and kill Adams.”

The squad’s eyes nearly popped out of their heads, earning a smirk from Thomas.

“You feelin’ okay, Alex?” John asked.

“We all thought you’d pick Jefferson for kill,” Hercules said. “No offense, Jefferson.” Thomas just shrugged.

Alexander shrugged. “Adams is a dick though.”

John gave him a peculiar look. “And Jefferson…?”

Alexander shrugged again. “Not too bad.”

Thomas laughed at the looks on the squad’s faces. “That’s so sweet, Alex. I wouldn’t kill you either.” He headed back towards the door. “If you see James, tell him I need to talk to him.”

The squad watched Thomas leave before they whipped around and leaned closer to Alexander.

“What happened between you two?” Lafayette asked in a hushed voice, as though they were discussing gossip about an illegal romance.

“Since when do you call him ‘Thomas’?” John added with a sour expression.

“And would you really fuck him?” said Hercules.

Alexander rolled his eyes so far back he nearly saw his brain. “God, guys. We just had coffee. _Someone_ ”—he shot a look at Lafayette—“kept complaining to George, so he said that we should learn to get along. So we just had a good time together and we’re on better terms.”

“But _Thomas?_ ” John asked, looking visibly queasy.

“We aren’t going to keep calling one another by our last names. That was stupid to begin with. This isn’t some 80s movie with high school villains. I call all of you by your first names.”

“ _I’m_ still Lafayette,” Lafayette said. “Nobody ever calls me ‘Gilbert’.”

“That’s because Gilbert isn’t even your first name, Mr. Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette.” Alexander was so used to making fun of Lafayette’s excessively long name that it rolled off of his tongue with ease. “I don’t know why you three are so worked up about this.”

“Would you fuck him?” Hercules repeated, looking more and more convinced that Alexander would.

Alexander’s nose scrunched up. “No! But I wasn’t going to marry him because I _definitely_ wouldn’t fuck George.” He got to his feet. “Alright, I’m done. I have to talk to Thomas about his performance tomorrow as Daveed anyway.”

The squad offered up a couple more heckles regarding both him and Thomas, to which Alexander just gave them an offended look and marched out of the room. It didn’t take long to find Thomas talking to James.

“Hey, Thomas. James.” Alexander walked up to them and offered a polite smile. “Sorry to interrupt. Can I talk to you when you’re done, Thomas?”

“Oh, we’re almost done,” said Thomas.

James gave them both a long look. “It’s too bad you couldn’t come to the dinner last night, Thomas. I hope you two had fun, though.”

Alexander blinked. “Wait, you—?”

“We’ll do something another time, James,” Thomas said, cutting Alexander off. “You should go get dressed.”

James had a sour look on his face, but he still nodded and walked off.

When he was gone, Alexander looked back to Thomas. “You canceled something with James to have coffee with me?”

“It was a boring dinner with some of his other friends that I didn’t want to go to anyway.” Thomas shrugged. “His other friends don’t like me very much. Probably for the same reasons we established yesterday.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and let the subject drop. “Anyway, what did you need?”

“I wanted to go over the solo with you again. You stumbled a bit the last time so I just wanted to make sure that you’re still confident with it.”

Thomas nodded. “I was just put off by all of your friends trying to mess me up. That’s all.”

Alexander gestured down the hall towards the piano room. “Then prove it.”

“Excuse me?”

“ _Prove_ that you’re still in top shape with your solo. I bet you’re not.”

Thomas snorted. “Are you trying to turn this into a competition, Alexander?”

“Yes. It’s the best way I know how to get you to do what I want you to do.”

“Have you ever tried _asking me_?”

Alexander thought about it. Honestly, he didn’t think he ever had. He usually just told Thomas to do one thing or the other. He couldn’t remember the last time he just asked Thomas to do something for him. “Um…Thomas. Can you pretty please perform the solo for me so I know you’re still confident?”

Thomas smiled. “Gladly. You go get changed while I warm up my voice with the piano. I don’t want you getting dressed last minute and end up looking shabby on stage, alright?”

They went their separate ways. Alexander felt a little jittery for some reason. He got dressed, but kept fumbling with his tie. Twice it ended up too short and the thinner part of the tie kept sticking out underneath the proper front piece. On the third try, the tie worked well enough and Alexander told himself that he could fix it again later.

He arrived back in the piano room to find Thomas doing warmups. He traveled up the scale and back down, hopping thirds and fifths and back again. Thomas looked up when Alexander came in and smiled.

“Well, Mr. Composer, do you think you can still play the piece? We don’t exactly have the orchestra to guide us in here.”

Alexander grinned and walked over. “I may be a bit rusty, but I don’t think I could forget how to play it.” Thomas rose from the bench and Alexander took his place. He tested out some of the beginning notes, making sure he still had the piece memorized. After getting a confirmation look from Thomas, Alexander began to play.

Thomas’s voice was beautiful. It was a fact that Alexander could never dispute. Whether he was singing in the ballad at the end of the show, rapping arguments between Daveed and Lin, or singing his show-stopper here about moving across the country to make a name for himself; Thomas’s voice always stopped people in their tracks. Even now, it was a bit difficult for Alexander to concentrate on playing the song correctly, as he just wanted to listen to Thomas and watch his dance, which Alexander could see him performing in his peripheral vision.

“ _So, darling, I know that you know_ ,” Thomas sang, spinning on his heel. His hair blew around his head like a lion’s mane.

“ _That I’ll go where you go_ ,” another voice joined in. Both Alexander and Thomas stopped and looked to the doorway to see Philip standing there, in all of his costume except for his jacket. “Oh…whoops. I didn’t want you to stop. I just really like that song.”

Alexander was about to tell Philip that they were rehearsing, when Thomas grinned and said, “I always thought that the song was more of a duet.” He gestured for Philip to come over, which made his face light up eagerly. When he scurried over, Thomas looked back at Alexander. “Let’s take it from the top.”

Alexander didn’t know what he was expecting, but clearly it wasn’t that. He began playing again, and this time Thomas and Philip sang together. Philip improvised the dancing, trying to keep up with Thomas, and Thomas in turn skipped the more complicated steps and stuck with the basics. He held Philip’s hand and did something that looked like the twist, which Philip followed with a giggle. At one point Thomas whisked Philip up into his arms and onto his shoulders, which made Alexander nearly slip up on the piano. He knew that Thomas was strong, but that seemed ridiculous. Philip seemed happy, though, as he held tightly onto Thomas’s hair and bobbed his head, singing loudly along with Thomas.

When the song was finally over, Thomas lifted Philip off of his shoulders and set him back down on the ground.

“You have a good set of pipes,” Thomas said with a smile.

Philip returned his grin. “You have a good voice too, for a bass hole.”

“ _Philip_ ,” Alexander groaned, standing up. “That’s not even funny anymore. Stop saying that.” Philip giggled and rushed out of the room before Alexander could lecture him further. Alexander sighed and looked back at Thomas. “I didn’t know you were good with kids.”

“I have two little siblings, so I’ve always liked working with kids.” He fixed his hair in the parts where Philip messed it up. “So is my singing adequate?”

Alexander smirked. “Yeah. You really showed me up there. You sound great.”

“That’s wonderful to hear.” Thomas let his hands drop. “I did want to ask, though.” He sighed, clearly wishing that he didn’t have to ask. “Could you help me out tomorrow with the dance? As much as I hate to admit it, I really do need some extra help with the type of dance style in the show.”

Alexander nearly laughed. He probably would have rubbed it in Thomas’s face that he told him so, but Alexander really didn’t feel the need to do that anymore. “Sure. Did you want to come in early tomorrow?”

“Sure. Do you want to meet me and we can drive together, actually? I have a dance lesson that day so you can meet me there and I’ll drive us over here and we’ll work on it.”

Alexander nodded. “That sounds like a plan. Now we should probably get out there and—”

“Wait a minute.” Thomas stepped closer and pointed at Alexander’s tie. “What is that?”

He looked down. “Oh, I was going to redo it. I know it looks awful.”

Thomas hummed before he reached out and undid the tie. Alexander began to object, but Thomas just hushed him. His hands moved swiftly, turning the fabric and tying it off. Alexander had nowhere to look so he settled on just watching Jefferson’s face. His lips were pursed in concentration and his eyes squinted, like he was reading something in small print.

“I can tie my own tie, you know,” said Alexander, crossing his arms.

Thomas smirked. “Everyone needs a tie guy once in a while. And you have such boring knots anyway. Make Lin livelier with a nice knot.” He finished and stepped back. “There you are.”

Alexander looked in the mirror and his eyes widened. He had never seen a knot like this before. There were layers to it, like it was a hair braid. “What kind of knot is this?”

“Eldredge. It’s a fancy statement in the world of ties.”

“It looks pretentious.”

“Maybe that’s why I tied it.”

Alexander gave him a questioning look. “I can’t tell if you’re insulting me or insulting yourself.”

Thomas smirked. “Maybe we’re both pretentious assholes. You’re always trying to dress like you’re rich anyway. This matches you.”

Alexander gave him a playful glare, but ultimately didn’t say anything else. Thomas headed out, calling that they needed to make sure everyone was ready for the show. Alexander looked down at the knot again. It seemed that Thomas knew a bunch of fancy knots, but Alexander couldn’t help but notice that he almost never saw Thomas wear a tie outside of his costume.


	12. The Spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed making a couple of jabs at myself in this one. Also, because I don’t actually know what any of the theatres look like, the Mason theatre is a reference to the Richard Rodgers theatre and the Mark V. Waters theatre is a reference to the David H. Koch theatre. I didn’t want to end up completely messing up the architecture of well-known theatres, so I only use them as architectural references. And…can you tell that I like ballet?

_They say there is a spring somewhere in the world, that may create connections between two people. Many have sought it, to transform their friendships into love, or for mothers and children to eternally get along, or even for those that constantly fight to finally resolve their differences. It could never be found, until one day two people traveled deep within a forest._

_These two hated one another. They constantly fought over every little thing, most recently being who it was that got them lost. But after days of traveling, they were desperate. They were dying of thirst and prayed for help, promising that they would never fight again if they could only survive. Finally, they happened upon the spring and drank from it together. From that point on, they never did fight; but whether it was the spring’s doing, to keep their promise, or something else entirely, could never be determined._

* * *

Alexander stared at the massive building that stood before him. The fountain behind him bubbled and spit water up into the air, creating tiny splashes that young children being taken in by their parents would laugh and point at. The grand pillars of the long building rose high into the sky like some kind of monument to the performing arts.

“I knew he was rich,” Alexander muttered, “but getting dance lessons at the Mark V. Waters theatre?”

Alexander was nearly too intimidated to go inside. Theatres in general always intimidated him. He still remembered on the first day he’d arrived at Washington’s theatre, which wasn’t nearly as formidable as the Allan Mason theatre that they were using now, Alexander had simply stood immobile outside of the building until Washington arrived and told him that he could go inside. They had only grown to perform at Mason, but Alexander had yet to set foot inside of this one. The atmosphere was chilling, like it held a type of professionalism that Alexander didn’t think he could stand up to; especially not in his ratty T-shirt and jeans with his hair pulled up like he was a third-rate artist publishing his stories on Tumblr.

He pulled out his phone. When Jefferson had texted him where his dance lessons were, Alexander couldn’t believe it, but Jefferson assured him that it was the right address.

Alexander read over Jefferson’s text again. “’Just come to my room on the first floor. We should be almost finished, so you can stand in the back and wait until we’re done.’” He sighed and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

Finally, Alexander went inside. The lobby was enormous and stretched out nearly as wide as the front of the building. People on the other side of the room looked so small. It made Alexander’s head spin. But he simply asked or directions and headed to the back rooms around the main theatre. Alexander finally found the room in question and slipped in silently at the back. It was a fairly spacious room with a small set of stairs leading down to the main studio area. The two walls on the side were made entirely of mirrors and the far wall was lined with ballet barres.

The class was still in session, and it consisted of several adults dressed in leotards. Alexander identified Thomas immediately, both because of his mane of hair that was still left to bounce about freely, but also because he was easily the best dancer there as they moved to the music and were instructed by a woman nearing her elderly years.

_One spin…two spins…three…four._

Thomas’s legs kicked out as he twirled, the momentum spinning him with ease. Air blew through his hair as it whipped around, slapping his face and billowing around him.  A slow smile spread over his face as he moved, faster and faster, and it seemed as though he were practically lifting off the ground with his speed.

Alexander watched, mesmerized, as Thomas moved like a top. The grace in his movements, the stiff but still relaxed posture, the way he looked so happy. It was unlike any Thomas that Alexander had ever seen before and he was left to stare transfixed.

Everyone moved as one, making it clear that the dance had been practiced many times before today. The smaller dancers were lifted by the larger ones, but Thomas, along with another dancer, were left to engage in a beautiful dance together as the others danced around them. Their legs moved with grace, in sink, kicking up, bending at the knee, holding straight, hopping from toe to heel. Their legs moved like they were rubber, flexing and catching, bending and straightening. Alexander could hardly believe his eyes. He had never really been one for ballet—classical music was just so boring—but this was so much livelier.

And Alexander wasn’t even getting distracted by Thomas’s hair.

The music picked up in pace, as did the flurry of dancers. Thomas and his partner still stayed together, dancing in sync, and while the dancers behind them picked up in pace, creating beautiful movements like a wave was flowing through them, the pair stayed synchronized. One kick, a spin, hold up their leg, and jump. Then they were spinning, both moving their bodies in a twirl and rotating slowly. First Thomas was in front, and then his partner was, and there was Thomas again. Everyone was swirling in a beautiful motion, knit together and coherent, all in one bright swoop they were moving as one in a way that Alexander had never experienced, and _Thomas_ , Thomas moved with such brilliance! He made Alexander’s heart pick up in pace and dance right along with them. He was there, dancing with Thomas. Alexander had never felt so connected with the person he had once despised. It was…magical.

And then it was over. The music came to a close, as did the dance, and the instructor began giving out notes to the dancers. They were over in a flash and everyone began dispersing to pack up. Alexander watched as Thomas spoke with his partner dancer. Alexander had never seen Thomas look so happy, especially not after a dance. At rehearsals, the only time Thomas looked mildly happy after a dance routine was either after his solo, or after his introduction song, which while it was with the whole company, he got to dance atop the second story of the set where everyone could see him. But now, even though Thomas was arguably still a main part of this dance, it seemed different. Thomas seemed to genuinely enjoy himself and it radiated off of him, even from this distance.

“Oh, Alexander!” Thomas said, catching his eye. Alexander blinked, clearing his thoughts. “Glad you could make it. I’ll get changed when we get to the theatre, alright?” He picked up his clothes, which were folded neatly over by the barres, and slipped on his pants.

Thomas walked over as he slipped his shirt over his leotard. “So. What were your thoughts?”

“It was amazing,” Alexander said. “I didn’t know ballet could be so…” He couldn’t find the word. “So _that_.”

Thomas grinned. “I’m glad that my class could impress. We’ve been working on that dance for the better part of a month. It’s going to be a part of the ballet symphony next month.”

Alexander stared, rendered speechless. “The ballet symphony? They let classes into that?”

Thomas laughed as they headed back out of the building. “I guess it’s less of a class and more of a performance group. I’ve been taking classes for years, like I told you, and this year my instructor recommended that I audition. So I did and I ended up being accepted into one of the groups for the symphony. I still just think of it as another class, though. I come here most days and rehearse, and then I go to your rehearsals. Although, I guess it’s performances now.”

“Honestly, Thomas…And you complain that you don’t get enough limelight in my show?”

Thomas shot him a glare, albeit one bordering on playfulness. “What can I say, Alexander? I’m just a narcissist who enjoys having the spotlight on me all day. I don’t like to share.”

Alexander rolled his eyes, but didn’t feel any bitterness either. Thomas’s car wasn’t parked very far, so they arrived quickly and got in. Thomas began driving back towards the Mason theatre. Alexander fiddled with the radio, trying to find anything good on.

“So what exactly do you need to go over with your dance?” Alexander asked. Thomas hadn’t exactly been specific.

“You’re always saying that my dancing is sloppy so I mostly wanted pointers. I also need some help for the couple dance. Peggy says I always step on her feet. I’m not used to doing partner dancing like that and it’s not like it’s something I can practice at home.”

Alexander snorted. “You could have rehearsed with James.”

“James is an even worse dancer than I am, and that’s when he actually knows what the dance steps are.”

Alexander settled on a station and sat back in the seat, watching the city move past as Thomas drove. “Yeah, that’s true. You promise not to get mad when I tell you that your dancing sucks?”

“You’ve told me enough times. I think I’m used to it by now.”

* * *

They arrived at the theatre with plenty of time before the others were to arrive for the show. Thomas went to get changed while Alexander went to the stage. He had gotten the rehearsal tracks onto his phone and brought a small Bluetooth speaker to use alongside it. It would be too much of a hassle to try to hook up the music through the sound booth, and with both of them on stage, there would be no one to run it anyway.

Alexander sat down and turned on the music for Thomas’s solo. He closed his eyes and tapped out the beat with his hand, trying to imagine how Thomas danced. Thomas knew the steps perfectly, as Alexander knew, but there was a certain sloppiness to the way he traveled on the stage. It didn’t make the dance bad, but it wasn’t spectacular either. Alexander wanted Thomas to be able to shine as much as he had when he was doing ballet.

“I didn’t realize we were starting already,” Thomas said jokingly as he joined Alexander on stage. Alexander looked up at him.

The gears were already turning in Alexander’s head and he hopped off of the stage. As he reset the music, he said, “Dance like you normally do.”

“What, you’re not even going to give me pointers first?” Thomas didn’t argue, though, as he took his usual spot on stage. Alexander started the music and Thomas began to sing. His feet moved with the usual motions but Alexander could tell Thomas’s heart wasn’t really into it. He wasn’t passionate like he was with ballet. He wasn’t having _fun_. And he wasn’t lifting up his feet much at all, which made everything seem stiff.

“Wait.” Alexander stopped the music. He stared at Thomas for a long moment, scrutinizing him, as things began to click into place. “When you do ballet, you pick up your feet a lot more. You’re way more relaxed when you do that.”

Thomas gave him a look. “Ballet is a lot different than this.”

“Yeah, I know. But dance can still overlap. Try it again, but imagine you’re…I dunno. In a leotard or something. Pick up your feet, hop a bit like you did before. Whatever you need. Just try to experiment.”

“Is that really the best advice to give while the show is actually being performed in a couple of hours?”

Alexander waved his hand dismissively as he restarted the music again. Thomas seemed unconvinced, but he tried again. This time he did as Alexander told him, and Alexander could see the difference immediately. Thomas wasn’t used to the contemporary hybrid routines that calls upon house dancing, swing, and whatever else Alexander had stirred into a choreographer’s nightmare. Thomas loosened up in things with structure and rules, like ballet, as strange as that sounded to Alexander. The more Thomas danced, the more mesmerized Alexander became. It was like hypnosis and Alexander didn’t notice anything else—not even Thomas’s hair.

“Your _hair!_ ” Alexander gasped.

Thomas stopped, surprised by his outburst. His hand went to his hair defensively. “I told you a thousand times: I don’t care if it’s distracting. I’m not changing it.”

“No, it’s not distracting! Your performance is finally more entertaining than your bouncing hair!” Alexander laughed with relief and leaned on the apron. “We have to keep working on it, though. I don’t want you throwing in ballet techniques into this thing on stage unless you’re really confident with it.”

They continued working through it for nearly thirty minutes, running the song over and over again with some breaks in between for water or because they got into an argument about whether doing a pirouette could really substitute a spin.

After thirty minutes, Alexander checked the clock. “We should move onto the couple dance before people start getting here.” He climbed up onto the stage. “Take off your shoes.”

Thomas frowned. “Why?”

“Because you’re bigger than me and I’m using my shoes for protection against you stepping on my toes, but I don’t need your shoes scuffing up mine, so just take them off.”

That made Thomas laugh, but he took his shoes off in the end. Alexander started the music and took his position in front of Thomas. They began with the simple movements, but even so, Thomas kept glancing down at their feet.

“You know, it’s rude to not look your dance partner in the eye,” Alexander said as they turned. “Keep your eyes on me.”

“I thought you didn’t want your shoes getting scuffed up.” Thomas lifted his gaze and tried to settle on Alexander’s face. “I’ll be fine now, but once it gets into the harder stuff, I apparently love control of my feet. I don’t know how Peggy did it in heels.”

“Didn’t she insist on wearing boots?”

“Yeah, because I kept stepping on her feet and hurting her in rehearsal, remember?” As he spoke, Thomas’s foot came down onto Alexander’s shoe, earning a hiss of disapproval from Alexander. “You see? I’m hopeless.”

Alexander sighed and they continued forward. “While that may be true, all it takes is a little practice. You’re taller than Peggy, so just take larger strides. You’re the one who’s leading, so she’ll follow you. If you put so much focus on not stepping on her feet, you won’t move as swiftly and you _will_ step on her feet.”

“Now how does that make any sense?” Thomas frowned and looked down at his feet again.

“What did I say?” Alexander removed his hand from Thomas’s shoulder to push his chin up. “Stop looking down. Focus on your partner. Honestly, if you’re this sloppy at ballroom dancing as well, maybe those dance lessons didn’t pay off very well.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Ballet lessons don’t exactly cover all forms of dancing.” They turned again and Thomas spun Alexander before they continued their path across the stage.

“At least you never dropped anyone during a dip. I think John is still bitter that he has to be dipped by Angelica because he could never support her himself.” Alexander could still see John’s face going all red with anger.

Thomas laughed. “I think that it’s better that he was embarrassed for a while rather than getting on Angelica’s bad side from dropping her in front of an entire audience.”

The image of Angelica wringing John’s neck after such a thing made Alexander laugh along with Thomas. It was nice to be able to get along and joke with him rather than constantly arguing and getting on one another’s nerves.

“Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson getting along,” Eliza said as she approached the stage. “I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Eliza!” Alexander broke away from Thomas to hop down and meet her partway. He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek, which she returned on his other cheek. “Where are the other sisters?”

Eliza tucked some hair behind her ear. “Peggy is with John, and said that they were going to come up with some kind of bet to propose to Lafayette and Hercules. Angelica is getting lunch with her husband.”

“How is Pope John?” Alexander asked, earning a light-hearted slap from Eliza. Between the three Johns within their circle—John Laurens, who had been decreed as the alpha John; John Adams, who everyone referred to by his last name; and Angelica’s husband, John Church—Alexander had decided to crown him with the name of kings—or, rather, of popes.

“You know that Angelica hates that name.” Yet even as she spoke, Eliza couldn’t hide her amused smile. “He’s fine, though. And how are you? You and Thomas seemed to be getting along well. Did something happen to you two?”

Alexander grinned and looked back at the man in question. “It turns out that Thomas isn’t as much of an asshole as I thought he was.”

“I kept telling him but he never listened to me,” Thomas said with a sigh as he sat down on the apron. “What brings you here so early anyway? I know you’re always here before the others, but never this early.”

Eliza nodded, suddenly looking a lot less happy than before. She looked at Alexander and said, “I was hoping to catch you early. Tommy dropped out.”

Alexander stared at Eliza. Tommy was Philip’s understudy. He’d always been a shy little boy and his parents never seemed too keen on him being on stage. But to drop out of the show _now?_ And on understudy night, of all days?

“Why?” Alexander managed.

“I didn’t get specifics. I just stopped by his school to pick him up like we’ve arranged, but his father was there and said that he had been meaning to tell us that he was withdrawing Tommy from the show.” Eliza sighed. “I already called Philip’s parents to let them know and they said that Philip was happy to still be able to do the show, but…”

“If he gets sick during the show’s run, then we won’t have anyone to play his part,” Alexander finished. He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. Why did all of this have to happen so early in the show? “We’ll figure something out. In the meantime, we’ll have to make do without an understudy. I’ll talk to George about it, but…” He shook his head. Alexander couldn’t see a viable way to get a new understudy. They’d been practicing this show for weeks. There’s no way a professional would be able to learn everything they needed in just a few days to account for Philip getting sick. And with his age, it would be even harder to expect such a thing from a kid actor. “We’ll work it out.”

Eliza nodded. “I’ll go call George now. Hercules should be here with Philip any minute—”

“Heeeeere!” a cheerful Philip called, running in. He grinned up at Alexander. “Mom said that I get to perform tonight!”

“That’s right,” Alexander said with a laugh. “For now you’ll get to perform every night. But that means that you have to take extra care of your voice and make sure you don’t overwork yourself, alright?”

Philip’s grin grew brighter. “Alright! I’ll go do the warmups now to make sure I’m ready!”

As he ran off, Alexander added, “Don’t get into your costume until later so you don’t rip it!”

When Phillip was gone, Hercules entered, carrying the kid’s backpack on one shoulder. It looked so tiny next to his big physique.

“He forgot his bag,” Hercules sighed. He set it down on the stage and looked up at Thomas. “What’s Jefferson doing here so early?”

“Alexander helped me with the choreography,” Thomas replied, looking down at him. He turned and started heading back towards the dressing rooms. “Thanks for the help.”

Alexander nodded and hopped back on stage, grabbing the bag with him so he could deliver it to Philip. “Hey Hercules, could you find one of the technicians and let them know that the support beam under the second story needs more reinforcement? Lafayette was complaining about the floor being a little shaky yesterday.” Hercules nodded and headed towards backstage to run his errand. “Oh, and if Lafayette or Peggy offer you ten dollars to eat a bottle of mustard, _don’t do it!_ ”

“Too late!” Hercules called back, a slight moan in his voice. “But it was a twenty.”


	13. Foreshadowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while since something dramatic happened.

_A man looked at his wife. She smiled at him and held out a tin of cookies. He wanted to eat them, and make his wife happy. She looked so happy now. But when he looked past her shoulder, he saw an apparition, of the both of them on the ground, the tin of cookies dumped. The cookies were poisonous, he knew. How he saw this, he did not know, but it was clear what would happen if they ate these cookies._

_But his wife was just so happy. So he ate one._

* * *

“You’re a cheater!”

“Philly, you can’t cheat at rock paper scissors.”

Alexander grinned as he glanced back into the piano room. Philip and Theodosia sat at the piano bench, giggling and arguing playfully as they threw out their hands in makeshift objects. Theodosia had won the last three rounds and Philip was getting frustrated that he couldn’t win.

“First you say I cheat in speaking French,” Theodosia teased, “and now I’m a cheater at rock paper scissors. Weren’t you the one that actually cheated on the math quiz today?”

“Shhhh!” Philip hushed her insistently before meticulously avoiding eye contact with Alexander.

Alexander just shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. His free hand fiddled with the loose tie sitting around his neck. “I knew your daughter was adorable, but I guess I had to meet her to really understand.”

Aaron laughed and finished off his own cup of coffee. “You should have seen her in her tot years. I was told multiple times that she could have been a baby model. I never thought it was meant for her, though.” He looked through the doorway at the kids and smiled. “Thanks for letting her stay. The babysitter has never canceled that suddenly before.”

“No problem. She’s a good kid, so I don’t think she’ll have a problem staying backstage. Plus, Philip can keep her busy when he has his last scene by the end of the first act.”

Aaron nodded and set the empty Starbucks cup down on the floor. “She’s excited to see the show, too. She’s been upset that I’ve been gone so often because of the performance, but maybe she’ll understand now that she gets to see it.”

“It seems to me that she’s more excited about seeing Philip perform than her old man,” said Alexander with a grin as he watched Theodosia give Philip a playful shove.

“How come you know how to count in French better than me?” Philip complained.

Theodosia smirked. “Because Papa is a way better teacher.”

Philip gasped. “I’m gonna tell Miss Schuyler you said that!”

“Well if it’s not her fault then it’s because you’re just stupid.” Theodosia giggled at the offended look Philip gave her.

Aaron chuckled, echoing his daughter. “I’m glad that they were able to be friends. She’s always had a bit of trouble making friends, especially recently for some reason. But she warmed right up to Philip.”

“Daaaaad!” Philip called, standing up from he bench. Alexander looked over his shoulder. “Can Theo wear my costume?”

“What? No, Philip, she can’t—”

“ _Pleaaaaaaase?_ ” both of the kids whined together.

Alexander glanced at Aaron. “How do you deal with kids?” he mumbled before looking back at them. “Philip, that costume is only for you. I can’t have either of you tearing it right before the show…How about you go to the costume room and let Theodosia try on one of the other kid costumes?”

Philip looked at Theodosia and shrugged. “I guess it’s better than nothing?”

She nodded. “Yeah. There better be something cool in there!”

The kids scrambled up from the bench and out of the room. Alexander called after them, “Don’t tear or stain anything or else I’ll have to call your parents!!” There was a faint reply and Alexander sighed. “Seriously, how do you do it, Aaron?”

“It’s just a father’s touch,” Aaron said with a grin. He picked up his cup. “You’ll understand when you’re actually a father, and not just playing one on stage.”

“Philip thinks of me as his dad, though. That should give me some automatic dad powers.”

Aaron gave him a look. “You haven’t actually done anything to raise him. Get back to me when you’ve done that.” He smiled and headed back towards the stage door to throw out his coffee cup.

Alexander finished his own coffee and started to head back towards the dressing room. When he entered, he saw Thomas, messing with his hair to make it perfect like always.

“Hey Thomas,” Alexander called, walking up behind him. When Thomas turned, Alexander held out his tie. “Could you do that fancy knot again?”

Thomas grinned. “I thought you wouldn’t have liked the knot for how much you complained about it last time.”

“I wasn’t _used_ to it…But I got a lot of compliments during the meet-and-greet, so I’m making a directorial decision to make fancy tie knots a permanent part of Lin’s costume.” He set down the empty cup on the counter.

Thomas shook his head in amusement but still slipped the tie around Alexander’s neck and began making the knot. “You should probably learn how to do this yourself. What if I’m sick on day?”

“Then Lin will suffer with a boring knot for one day.”

“Honestly, Alexander, you can be so petty.” Thomas slipped off the last bit of fabric and finished the knot. “Satisfied?”

“Very.” Alexander smirked. “Are you excited for your first official night playing Daveed?” Thomas nodded, but looked a little uneasy. Alexander frowned. “What?”

Thomas shook his head. “I’m just nervous about performing, like always.”

“Well you don’t have to be. Do I have to go into one of those long-winded speeches about how you’re still very capable of performing because you’re inherently talented, or are you getting sick of those?”

Thomas smirked. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Just let me be anxious for once, will you?” He looked at the mirror one last time, but seemed satisfied with his hair. “And, uh, for the dancing?”

“The others don’t really know about the changes, so let’s leave things as it was before. Practice some more on your own time to incorporate what we talked about today, and we’ll practice the big numbers with your new dancing another time. We don’t want to confuse everyone on stage, you know?”

Thomas nodded. “I’ll keep with my current awful dancing then.”

Alexander grinned. “Careful. Angelica told me that self-deprecation is a sign of a bad role model.”

“I’ll avoid such behavior in the future,” Thomas promised. “It’s a good thing I don’t have a kid to—”

“DAAAAAAD!” Philip yelled at the doorway, causing them both to jump.

Alexander looked back and gave him a weary smile. “Yes, Philip?”

Philip grinned excitedly and cleared his throat. “Introducing…the fearsome…the dangerous…the awesome…DON THEO!!” He stepped aside and held out his hands like an advertiser on television. Theodosia stepped through, dressed in a full suit that Alexander had no idea what production it was from. She grinned wide and adjusted her bowtie before pretending to shoot Philip with a finger gun, and Philip responded appropriately by falling back dramatically onto the floor.

“Hey, hey, you’ll get your costume all dirty!” Alexander scolded, picking Philip up and placing him back on his feet. He looked between the two of them. “…Have you two seen The Godfather or something?”

“I have!” Philip announced with a grin.

Alexander stared in horror. “ _Who_ let you watch The Godfather?!”

“John, that day you kept going through stuff with Laf and so I had nothing to do. He gave me his Hulu password.”

Alexander groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. “I swear to god, John would be the worst father or uncle to any child ever.”

Thomas smiled and walked up to Theo and knelt in front of her. “May I fix your bowtie, great Don Theo?”

She grinned and crossed her arms. “You may.” As Thomas was undoing the knot, she said, “Tell me I’m handsome, mafia man.”

“You are quite handsome. You always look incredibly dashing. Your cut hair is especially suitable for you.”

Theodosia’s grin grew so wide it looked like it was going to split her face in two. When Thomas finished with the bowtie, she put her hands on his shoulders, looking at him seriously. “If you ever need anything, mafia man, come to me. I will be here in your time of need.”

As the kids were turning to leave, Alexander said, “Don’t you want to wear a pretty dress or something, Theodosia?”

Together, Philip and Theodosia looked back, their noses scrunched up, and said, “Gross!!” Then they laughed and ran off together, like they were conjoined at the hip.

Thomas smiled and stood up, only to be met with Alexander’s hard glare. “What?”

“Why is it that _you_ have better parental intuition than I do? I at least have a stage kid. You don’t have any kids.”

Thomas laughed. “I practically raised my siblings when we were growing up. I had some practice with little kids.”

“Well maybe you can teach me some time, since Aaron thinks I’m not really dad material.”

“I can’t really blame him. You couldn’t even go along with Don Theo. How are the kids supposed to like you if you can’t even play their games?”

There was a knock on the door before Alexander could answer. Eliza stuck her head in and smiled. “Oh, good, you’re both here. The show starts soon, so get backstage.”

Alexander nodded. “Thanks, Eliza. Break a leg.”

“But not literally!” She slipped out and Alexander looked back at Thomas.

“Have a great show, Daveed,” said Alexander.

Thomas grinned, for once not looking so anxious. “You too, Lin.”

They made their way backstage, and soon the curtain rose. The show started off strong and everyone seemed to be on their game. The understudies—especially Thomas—were all doing very well and easily getting into character despite this being their first official show in those roles. The pacing was good, everyone’s projection seemed solid. While Tomas’s dancing was still a little distracting in its old form, it was good enough, so Alexander forced himself not to focus too much on it.

The first act was drawing to a close and everyone jumped into the climactic company number. Everyone took their places on stage for their dance, Alexander went center stage, and Thomas took his solo place on the second story.

Alexander’s heart was racing, as it always did during these big numbers. With spins and loud belting and pieces from all the previous songs layering over one another, it always excited Alexander. This was one of his favorite songs just because of how long it took him to write. This showstopper took him nearly a full year to perfect, and he was glad that it paid off as it had.

At one point Lin’s character turned around to watch everyone around him for a solid five seconds, but Alexander’s attention remained focused on Thomas as he danced above everyone. He must have been getting lost in the role, because he was adding in ballet techniques, much to Alexander’s annoyance. While it looked good, it clearly looked different from all the previous dancing. Alexander just hoped that the audience wouldn’t find it too distracting.

Then he was back to dancing and moving with the others on the ground floor. The music rose to a grand finale and Alexander’s heart felt like it would burst from his chest.

The loud crash that erupted from behind him jolted Alexander to a standstill in the midst of the dance number. He looked back over his shoulder and his heart skipped a beat. The support beams of one side of the second-floor set had cracked and the entire thing had snapped and fallen to one side. Just before the blackout, Alexander saw Thomas lying face down on the stage, where he must have fallen when the set collapsed. He wasn’t moving.

Then it went dark.


	14. The Painter's Canvas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone's wonderful comments after the last cliffhanger! More has yet to come ;)

_The painter spent years perfecting their art. They would paint every day in their studio, applying color to the canvas. They created so many paintings that their house was filled with them. One day they received the chance to put up an exhibition and they agreed. On the day of the exhibition, they came to say a few words and saw just how many people had attended. They began to cry._

_The curator asks them why they were crying. “I never expected so many people to love my art,” the artist replied. “It’s like they love it as much as I do.”_

* * *

“I think he’s dead.”

“Not my mafia man!!”

Alexander tried to ignore Philip and Theodosia’s inability to keep quiet off stage as he tried to get to Thomas. The moment the lights went dark and the curtains began to close for intermission, everyone scrambled to Thomas. It was hard for everyone to keep their voices down, and Alexander heard someone shouting backstage for a technician. He had to fight his way through the crowd to get to Thomas. At the forefront were Eliza and James. Thomas slowly sat up, holding his face and swaying. James held his shoulders to keep him from faceplanting.

“Let’s get him moved off stage,” Alexander said quietly as he crouched in front of Thomas. “Thomas, can you stand?”

Thomas mumbled something incoherent, but moved to get to his feet. James had to hold him steady and Eliza helped pull him up, but at least it seemed like Thomas hadn’t broken anything. Alexander saw what looked like blood on Thomas’s face, so h told another actor to go get him some tissues or old cloth from the costume room.

When they began to walk, Thomas seized up in pain as he brought weight down onto his left foot. He covered his mouth his other hand to keep from making any sounds that were too loud. The good news was that Thomas was still coherent enough to realize where he was and why he couldn’t be loud. The bad news was that his foot was probably seriously injured.

“Alright, alright, move carefully,” Alexander murmured. “Can you hop on your good leg, Thomas? We just need to get you backstage.”

It was slow going, but they ended up getting into a working rhythm and managed to get Thomas backstage. Someone had already pulled up a chair that Thomas could sit in without being seen by audience members.

“Should we call someone?” Eliza asked worriedly as they got Thomas into the chair.

“I’m fine,” Thomas said, finally managing to say something coherent. The way his words slurred still worried Alexander, though.

John ran up, a box of tissues in his hands. “Here, Alex.”

Alexander took the box and slowly pulled Thomas’s hands away from his face. His nose was bloodied, with red spread over his nose and cheeks as he was trying to protect his costume. There were some other cuts, but it didn’t look like his eyes were damaged, nor did he lose any teeth or break his nose. How he was able to protect his face this well, Alexander didn’t know.

He pressed some tissues into Thomas’s hands and set to wiping down his face. “How’s your foot?”

Thomas made a humming sound. “Hurts…But it’s fine.”

“Laf?” Alexander called over his shoulder. His friend was at his side in an instant. “I need you to get changed as Daveed. When you go on after intermission, make some kind of joke as to why you suddenly sound French so the audience won’t get confused.” Lafayette nodded and ran off to get changed.

“I can still perform!” Thomas argued, but his unfocused eyes said otherwise.

“We need to make sure you’re really okay, Thomas. We don’t know if you have a concussion and you hurt your foot enough as it is.” Alexander held the tissue tightly against Thomas’s nose and looked over his shoulder at Eliza. “Do you know if we can get ice anywhere?”

Angelica stepped forward and nodded before Eliza could answer. “There should be some ice at the concession stand in the lobby. I’ll go get a bag.”

“No, I’ll get it!” Theodosia proclaimed. “Anything for mafia man!”

As she ran off, James knelt down to help wipe the blood off of Thomas’s hands. “I have some hand sanitizer that should help with this,” he said as he stood up again. “I’ll be right back.”

“Do you need anything else, Thomas?” asked Eliza. Thomas shook his head. “Alright…let us know if you do, alright?” She looked at Alexander and said in a lower voice, “I’m going to go get ready for the next act.”

Alexander nodded and when she left, it was just him and Thomas. Everyone else was going around getting ready, the technicians were working to fix the stage as quickly but efficiently as they could. Alexander wondered if Hercules actually did tell the crew about the shaky support beam or if he forgot. He also heard someone in the booth making an announcement over the speakers about a prolonged intermission to repair damages.

“Are you really okay?” Alexander asked. “Can you think straight?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Thomas insisted, sounding more confident and awake this time. “I have a headache, but you don’t need to put Laf on. I can finish the night.”

“You can’t even stand on that foot of yours. You probably twisted your ankle, if you didn’t completely break it. Should I call someone to take you to the ER?”

Thomas glared. “I don’t need to go to the ER.” He moved to wipe his nose with the tissue left in his hand. “I just want to finish the show.”

Alexander shook his head. “And I just want you to not injure yourself further tonight. You’re lucky that you only got a bloody nose and twisted ankle. Unless there’s something else you’re not telling me?”

“There’s nothing else. I swear.” Thomas groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Unless you want to count a massive headache.”

“Did you hit your head when you fell?”

“I don’t know. I remember falling and then getting up. I think I passed out for a second.”

That really didn’t sound good. But Alexander wasn’t exactly a medical expert, and if Thomas didn’t want to go, they couldn’t exactly force him. They still had to perform the second half of the show, and he didn’t think he could get enough people to carry Thomas to a car. Thomas could probably afford the expenses for an ambulance, but he would have Alexander’s head…

“I’m _fine_ ,” Thomas repeated with a glare. “I see that worried look on your face. I don’t need you babying me, alright?”

“Oh come on. You just fell off the _set_. I have a right to be a little worried.” Alexander finally pulled up another chair for Thomas to rest his injured foot on. “If you’re going to keep fighting me on getting you a doctor, then you can at least promise to not fight me about not performing the rest of the night.”

Thomas didn’t look happy about that, but he at least didn’t say anything to fight Alexander. James returned with his personal bottle of hand sanitizer and squirted some onto Thomas’s hands. Thomas was coherent enough by that point to rub his hands together and wipe them off with the tissues.

“How do you feel?” asked James.

“Like shit,” Thomas replied. “How do I look?”

James smiled. “Like shit.” He gave Thomas some fresh tissues. “I think you should go to the doctor, Thomas. You could have seriously hurt your foot. I can get you to my car and—”

“No.” Thomas crossed his arms. “I’m not going.”

“Thomas, don’t be a child. You need to.”

Thomas sighed. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t go _eventually_. But tonight is your performance, and I want you to be able to finish up the night and talk to the meet-and-greeters.”

“I don’t care about that though.”

“Yes, you do. You wouldn’t have auditioned if you didn’t care. I’m not dying, right? I’m not gonna fall asleep if you’re worried I have a concussion. I won’t move around without someone’s help. So just enjoy your performance tonight, okay, James?”

James still didn’t look happy, but Alexander swore he saw something like relief on his face. James nodded and stood up again. “I’ll come to get you right after the meet-and-greet, alright?”

Thomas nodded and James finally left to get ready for the second act. Thomas looked at Alexander. “You should go get ready too, instead of dealing with this drama queen.”

“It’s fine, Thomas.” Alexander’s hands slipped into his pockets and he looked at the ground awkwardly. “I’m sorry you can’t finish your performance today, Thomas. I know you were really looking forward to it.”

“…The second act is crap anyway.” Thomas offered one of his belittling smirks, but even Alexander could see that his heart wasn’t really into it.

Alexander was about to say something to try and make Thomas feel better, when Theodosia ran back in with a large bag of ice being dragged in behind her.

“Don’t worry mafia man, I’m here!” she proclaimed, coming to a stop beside him.

Alexander stared at the large bag. “Theodosia, I don’t think we need that much ice.”

“They said to take as much as I needed and I didn’t know how much! They also gave me this little bag.” She held up a Ziploc bag that was a much more appropriate size than the thing she was hauling over here.

“Alright, that’s perfect. Let’s scoop some of this ice into that baggie, okay?”

While Alexander was doing just that, Thomas pulled Theodosia up on to his lap. He said, “Thank you for helping me, Don Theo. I could not have pulled through without you.”

Theodosia smiled. “Are you okay, mafia man?”

He nodded. “I just have a headache and my foot hurts. That’s all.”

“Headaches are the worst!” She leaned up and kissed the middle of his forehead. “Mama used to do that with me when I had headaches. I think she had magic because they would always go away.”

Thomas smiled. “I think you inherited that magic. I’m already feeling a lot better.”

Theodosia’s grin grew wider. “Anything for you, mafia man.”

Alexander finished filling the Ziploc with ice and placed it carefully over Thomas’s ankle. “Hey, Theodosia? Could you do a favor for me? Watch over Thomas and make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. He needs to rest.”

Theodosia crossed her arms and adjusted in Thomas’s lap to get comfortable. “I won’t move from this spot!”

“Thanks.” Alexander smiled and picked up the bigger bag of ice. “I’m going to get this back to the concession stand. Do you need anything else, Thomas?”

Thomas shook his head. “I’m good.” As Alexander was leaving, he added, “Twist an ankle.” Alexander paused and looked back with a frown. Thomas just smiled. “But not literally.”

Alexander realized that he was referencing what he always said with Eliza. To be joking so soon seemed out of character for Thomas. Alexander smiled and nodded. “Will do.”

As he walked off to get ready, Alexander handed the bag of ice off to a technician who said she’d take care of it for him. In the dressing room, he got changed into his second act outfit, fixed his hair and stage makeup, and talked with the other actors. He didn’t want anyone going onto the second floor for the second act, so they were going to have to improvise a bit with any other big dance numbers and blocking, but everyone seemed prepared to do just that.

Intermission was over before he knew it and everyone returned to the stage to perform. Everything seemed to be going well during the second act. Lafayette had worked out a joke with John in regards to his accent and the audience laughed and seemed to understand the need for replacing the actor. Every time Alexander went backstage, he saw Thomas talking quietly with Theodosia. He was grateful that she wasn’t letting him get up and walk around, but he also felt kind of bad that Thomas was being forced to watch the show that he couldn’t perform.

The last twenty minutes of the show allowed Alexander to engross himself in Lin’s character, since he never left the stage. The final applause was deafening and Alexander felt elated, as he always did when he performed. Everyone took their bow and left backstage. Everything moved so quickly that he forgot to look for Thomas before they met with the meet-and-greeters.

“Philip,” Alexander said before they stepped out of the stage door. “Do you know where Theodosia and Thomas are?”

“They went to the piano room I think,” Philip replied. “Come on, people are waiting!”

They stepped out and were met with the greeters. Compliments flew and autographs were asked for. What Alexander was most surprised about was the amount of people that asked about Thomas.

“Is he okay?” someone asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Yes, he’s okay. He hurt his foot is all. He’s resting backstage.”

The greeters looked disappointed. “I was hoping I could see him,” one of them said. “He did really good.”

“Yeah I wanted his signature,” another agreed.

Alexander looked at them in surprise and said, “How about I go see if he wants to come out here? I’ll be right back.”

He left and headed to the piano room. Theodosia was standing in front of the door, arms crossed, and when Alexander approached, she put up both hands to stop him.

“You can’t go in there!” she cried.”

Alexander raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Mafia man is in there and he said he didn’t want to see anyone.”

He frowned. “Was Thomas upset?”

“Maybe…”

“I want to help him. I don’t want him to be upset.”

Theodosia crossed her arms. “I don’t either. But he told me not to let anyone in.”

“Well…Isn’t it better to go against what he said to help him than not do anything at all?”

She seemed to ponder on that. “Well…I guess so…” She sighed and finally stepped aside. “Fine. But _only_ you. And you better make him feel better!”

“I will. I promise.”

Alexander stepped inside. Thomas was sitting at the piano, face in his hands. Alexander approached carefully and said, “Hey. The show’s over.”

“I know,” Thomas replied, without looking up. “You should be with the greeters.”

“I wanted to come get you though.”

“Why? It doesn’t matter. Lafayette finished the show and everyone still had a great time.” Thomas took a shuddering breath. “I couldn’t even finish my first real performance of Daveed. How sad is that?”

Alexander frowned. “Well that’s hardly your fault, Thomas. It could have been anyone up on that floor.”

“I wish it was Lafayette who was up there,” Thomas mumbled. “And that’s godawful. I know it is. I didn’t want him to get seriously injured, but if it was him who twisted his ankle then I could get a few more performances.” Thomas’s voice cracked and Alexander saw tears roll off Thomas’s chin. “And that’s just the worst thing to wish for, isn’t it?”

“Thomas…”

“I’m just obsessed with being in the limelight, just like you said. I can’t be grateful for what I have and instead I have to wish for awful things to happen because I’m never satisfied. Even if I got Daveed, I probably would have been pissed that I couldn’t have played Lin or some other bullshit. I can’t just shut up and accept what I earn and I just need to keep aiming way too high until everything crashes and burns like it _always_ does, and—”

“Thomas.” Alexander reached over the piano the planted his hands firmly on Thomas’s shoulders. Thomas finally looked up and Alexander’s heart ached to see the tears in his eyes. “Thomas, listen to me. Everyone loves to perform. I’m sure almost everyone in the cast wishes that they could have had a better role, and as an understudy you’re not selfish to wish you had more performances. Of course you wish that.”

“But…”

“And you don’t _really_ wish that Lafayette was hurt, right?”

Thomas shook his head. “Of course not…I just wish, I wish that I could have another performance and not, and not have a messed up foot.”

“Exactly. That’s not bad, Thomas. You’re frustrated.” Alexander squeezed his shoulders. “You’re wonderful.”

Thomas laughed and wiped his eyes. “And you flatter me too much.”

Alexander smiled. “How else am I supposed to calm the drama queen? Now come on, you have to meet the greeters.”

“Why?”

“Because they want to see you.” The look of surprise on Thomas’s face only made Alexander grin wider. “Come on. They want to make sure you’re okay. One of them mentioned getting an autograph.”

Thomas was already standing up, but he still looked confused. “Why would they want to see me, though? Lafayette is there.”

“Lafayette performed for one act, and so did you. They still liked you, even if you didn’t do the whole show.” Alexander rounded the piano and slipped an arm around Thomas to help him walk…or hop. “Did you think you’d never have fans?”

“No,” Thomas replied as they headed out. And the honesty in his voice broke Alexander’s heart.


	15. Missed Fortune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for dealing with the one-week hiatus. The weekly schedule is resumed :)

 

 

_Good and bad. Fortune and disaster. Up and down. For every ounce of good you will receive, you will receive something bad in return. That is what every child in the village learned, growing up. One child didn’t believe it. “You can’t always have bad when it comes to good,” they claimed. “There’s no person or thing dictating one way or the other!”_

_So the child grew up taking every good they could get their hands on. They grew older, married, had children, grew rich. They smiled and laughed daily as if to say, see? No misfortune has befallen me. But as time went on, they received their comeuppance. A grand fire lit up their home one night while they were out working late, and it burned everything to the ground, taking their spouse and sleeping children with it._

* * *

 

The good news was that Thomas’s foot wasn’t broken. The bad news was that he had a twisted ankle, as everyone had guessed. The worse news was that he wouldn’t be able to perform for a week.

Thomas still insisted that he come to the shows, even if he had to just watch from backstage. He couldn’t even perform in the ensemble, with that foot. It had to be elevated as much as possible, and Alexander made sure that it happened.

“You don’t have to keep coming, you know,” Alexander said one day as he adjusted the pillow under Thomas’s foot. It was intermission and Alexander should have been changing his costume and touching up his stage makeup. They both knew it, but Thomas said nothing to make him leave and Alexander made no move to leave either.

“I want to. I want to support everyone.” Thomas shifted uncomfortably before settling again. “Maybe I can finally give  _you_  notes for once.”

Alexander smirked and put his hands on his hips. “I made this whole show. Anything I do is automatically perfect.”

“How about when you were ten seconds late to your entrance yesterday because you were babying me?”

Alexander only continued to grin. He didn’t have a comeback to that, but he didn’t really mind.

Alexander had also taken up retrieving Thomas every day and bring him to the theatre. Thomas normally drove himself, but he’d hurt his driving foot, so he couldn’t properly press down on the pedals. Driving with his other foot would be too risky. James also usually worked his day job before performances, too, so he wouldn’t have time to bring Thomas to the theatre early like he had recently grown accustomed to. Alexander wondered when Thomas had gotten the change of heart to come early instead of nearly late, like before.

The first time Alexander showed up at Thomas’s house, he was a little more than surprised. He knew that Thomas came from a wealthy family, but he was living in a standard apartment. He’d expected some kind of condo by the water or something else snobby. But his apartment looked like Alexander’s, if not just bigger.

“Ready to go?” Alexander asked when Thomas opened the door. He was leaning on a crutch, but otherwise looked just as he normally did: hair poofy, clothes expensive, and…well, the smile was different. “You’re in a good mood for someone who just twisted his ankle.”

“What can I say? I make the best of terrible situations.” Thomas shuffled outside and locked his front door. He moved awkwardly on the crutch, like he had never used one before. Then again, neither had Alexander.

They walked together, down the street. It was amazing how people on the street parted for them as they passed. Alexander thought it was just the crutch and that people were being courteous.

Finally, they arrived at the bus stop. Thomas gave Alexander a look. “You’re joking.”

“Do I seem like someone who has a car?”

“You can at least take the subway.”

“And risk all of the infectious diseases carried by rats that live down there? No thank you.”

Thomas laughed and rolled his eyes. “The subway isn’t that dirty, Alexander.”

But they used the bus anyway, and they continued to every day. Thomas had gotten used to it quickly enough, and once Alexander was even a courteous gentleman and insisted that Thomas sat down on the only open seat left, while Alexander stood.

Things were actually really nice between the both of them. They hadn’t had a real argument in a week and Alexander noticed the surprised stares he still got from some of the crew or his friends when they actually laughed together backstage before shows.

“Alright, I must admit,” said Alexander as he and Thomas ate cheap Chinese together. “You’re not as insufferable as I may have once been led to believe.” The show was starting in an hour. Thomas’s foot was a lot better, and he could walk without the crutch, but his doctor insisted that there would be no dancing.

“Why, Alexander, that is surely the kindest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Thomas replied with a grin as he cracked open a fortune cookie.”

Alexander looked offended. “I spent a couple afternoons lifting off all the things I enjoyed about you, and you want to tell me that  _that_  is the kindest?”

“Well how was I to know if you truly meant any of that? I know that you mean this, and that’s what truly counts.”

Alexander rolled his eyes. “Well I’m glad that the most basic of compliments can mean so much to you.” He finished off his sweet and sour chicken and gestured to Thomas’s cookie with his fork. “What’s your fortune?”

Thomas pulled it up and cleared his throat dramatically. “’With every good fortune comes great loss,’” he read. “Well, if that isn’t ominous.”

“Maybe you’re about to come into a great deal of money in exchange for your first born,” Alexander joked as he stood and picked up his food.

“Well it’s a good thing I don’t have a first born. I have a long time before I have to worry about that.”

Thomas stood as well, to help clear the table. They dumped the trash into the takeout bag. “I can throw it in the dumpster,” Alexander said.

“No, you have to get changed. I’ll throw it out. I’m not Tiny Tim anymore.”

Alexander didn’t try to argue. He knew that Thomas was always itching to move around, now that he didn’t have pain constantly shooting through his foot with every step. He wanted to grant Thomas some more independence.

When Thomas left to throw out the trash, Alexander went to the dressing room. The only other person there was James, coughing into a tissue every few seconds so he had to stop applying makeup with every fit.

“If you have a cold, you don’t have to come here, you know,” Alexander said as he took a place beside James. He began to unbutton his shirt. His opening costume had three different layers and Alexander knew he would sweat through his makeup before intermission.

“You’ve already lost one ensemble member for the week. I thought I’d do my best to be here. I won’t sing, but I can dance well enough, and mouth along.” James threw the used tissue in the trash and continued to rub on his foundation. “I wanted to thank you.”

Alexander glanced at him as he slipped on his costume undershirt. “What, you mean for getting Thomas around? He could probably drive by now. I don’t know why I still take him on the bus.”

“No, not that. Well, I guess thank you for that too. I didn’t want him being stubborn and getting into a car crash because he thought he could drive anyway. But I mean, thank you for doing as I said.”

Again, Alexander was lost. “As you said?”

“I told you to start treating Thomas as a person, and you have. He hasn’t been this happy in a long time.” James smiled. “He wouldn’t stop talking about you for half an hour the other night, and it wasn’t because he was complaining about you. I was impressed.”

“What kinds of things did he say?” Alexander asked. He wasn’t used to the idea of people talking about him while he wasn’t around. People gossiped, and from the sounds of things, Thomas used to say not-nice things about him.

“This and that. I’m pretty sure he said ‘I can’t believe I hated him so much’ at least five times.”

That made Alexander’s stomach flutter for a brief moment. He didn’t know why, exactly. But it felt nice. “Funny, I just told him that he wasn’t such a bad guy himself.”

“I’m sure he appreciates it.” James finished with his makeup and slipped the foundation back into his makeup bag. He turned fully to face Alexander, who was just about fully dressed in his costume. “Thank you, Alexander.”

Alexander raised an eyebrow. “Look, I just finally realized that I had to stop being a dick. I don’t know if that’s really something you should thank me for.”

“I’m thanking you for more than just treating him right. You’ve really helped him, in more ways than you may understand.” James smiled and gave Alexander a pleasant pat on the arm. When he left, Alexander remained, looking in the mirror and fiddling with the tie. He finally left to find Thomas to ask him to tie it for him.

\--

“It was a good show!” Thomas insisted with a laugh. He and Alexander sat beside one another on the bus. They nearly had the whole thing to themselves, a rarity that they hadn’t had the past several nights.

“God, it was awful,” Alexander groaned. “You did see it, didn’t you? John somehow skipped an entire verse in the song, James had to run off stage because his coughing fit left him unable to dance, and I completely stumbled over my words!”

“I thought that that was simply exactly as you intended.” Alexander shot Thomas a dirty look which made Thomas laugh all over again.

Alexander sunk in his seat and buried his face in his hands. “I’m over. I’m through. The meet and greeters were struggling to say something nice to me. I’m nothing but a fraud in the theatre world.”

“A melodramatic idiot, sure, but I don’t think fraud quite fits you.” Thomas grinned and nudged Alexander’s shoulder. The bus came to their stop and Thomas got to his feet. “Come on. You’re not going to make me walk home alone, are you?”

“Oh, no, I’ll be left to risk getting mugged in the street. Don’t worry.” Alexander got to his feet and they got off the bus together, thanking the driver as they did.

It was a nice night. It wasn’t too hot, and while the city was still loud, there weren’t as many people roaming the streets. It was almost peaceful.

“How about this,” Thomas suggested. “Before the show tomorrow, be sure to give everyone notes about what went wrong, and when you get to you, give yourself ten notes like you always did with me. It’ll make everyone double over with laughter.”

“You overestimate your humor.”

Alexander probably would have argued further, except that Thomas’s phone began to ring. They didn’t stop walking as he pulled it out and answered the call. He barely got a word in before he fell silent. After a moment of listening, he stopped walking altogether, prompting Alexander to stop as well. Thomas continued to listen for a full minute before he murmured a soft, “Yes, of course. I’ll call you tomorrow for the details.”

Thomas ended the call and Alexander raised his eyebrows in a silent question. Thomas didn’t answer right away, instead opting to stare down at his phone screen.

“I have to go to Monticello,” Thomas breathed. He sounded so haunted, like a man realizing he was going back to prison. “Alexander, I’m sorry. I’m going to miss a few more nights and I just—Oh God.”

“Wait, hold on.” Alexander put a gentle hand on Thomas’s arm. “Monticello? That’s like, Virginia, right? Why do you have to go back?”

“That was my mom, she—She said that Dad died.” Thomas’s words hung in the air for a moment, like they were processing in both of their heads. “Alexander, my dad’s dead. Mom said that I have to come and help plan the funeral and then there’s going to be a will, and…And my siblings. I’m going to see them again.” Thomas rubbed his hands over his face. “ _Jesus_ , why did this have to happen now.”

Alexander’s stomach churned uneasily. “Maybe you should have someone go with you, Thomas. It’s not good to face stuff like this on your own and you don’t exactly seem excited to see everyone again, regardless of the circumstances.”

Thomas shook his head. “James couldn’t afford it. It’s bad enough that I’ve kept him from his social life so many times. I can’t expect him to drop everything, including performing in the show, just to come with me.”

“Then I’ll go with you.” Even Alexander was surprised by his lack of hesitation.

“You…Alexander, I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“I volunteered. You didn’t ask anything.”

“But—”

“Thomas, it’s fine. I have an understudy, just like everyone else.”

Thomas managed a sorry smile, despite himself. “You mean the one you call ‘even more unreliable than the government fixing the economy’?”

“I’ll give him some notice. He’s not like you, who jumps at the chance to be an understudy. But if I tell him he needs to perform, he will.” Alexander mirrored Thomas’s smile. “You shouldn’t be alone when a family member dies, alright? I want to come.”

“Alright. Fine.” Despite the curt response, Alexander could see the relief in Thomas’s eyes. He didn’t want to be alone, and Alexander was going to make sure that that didn’t happen.


	16. Cinderella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plane rides and bonding. Thanks for everyone who have been leaving comments; they make me very happy!! :)

_The story of Cinderella is classic. An evil stepmother, evil siblings, being forced to work. But one little girl had a different Cinderella story. She did as her parents told her and cared for her siblings. Things weren’t awful, but she still hated it. She felt as though she had no freedom. Everything in her life was laid out before her, and she didn’t want any of it. She wanted to leave, and do something different. But she didn’t know if that would be possible._

* * *

“Look, you seriously need to calm down because your anxiety when it comes to flying is going to make me open the air lock.”

Alexander let out a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was jittery; no, he was more than jittery. He was borderline terrified, and the plane hadn’t even begun moving yet. “I’ve been on a boat, a car, a train, and a bus. I’ve never been on a plane.”

Thomas sighed. “It’ll be fine,” he said. Alexander swore he heard a smile in his voice, but Alexander wasn’t going to open his eyes to find out.

“We’re going to be thousands of feet up in the air.”

“And you are more likely to get into a car crash—or a bus crash in your case—than get into a plane crash.”

“Is that based on statistical percentages based on the number of crashes versus the number of flights or cars, or is it purely a number in comparison because I am certain that way more people drive cars than fly planes.”

Thomas put a hand over Alexander’s. “ _Relax._ It’ll be fine. The flight to Virginia is only an hour. It’ll be over before you know it.”

Alexander let out a slow breath again and tuned his hand to hold Thomas’s easier, instead of clutching the armrests. He tried to concentrate on anything other than the metal deathtrap he was sitting in. He had worked everything out with his understudy two days before, threatening that if he missed a show and they had to cancel it, that he would be personally responsible to pay for the refunds of every single audience member’s ticket. Alexander wasn’t sure if he was actually able to force the understudy to do that, but it had scared him into agreeing to not miss a single performance, so Alexander was satisfied.

Things were a little awkward between his friends and the rest of the cast, considering the both of them were going to be gone for a few days.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” John asked him. “I mean, I get that you and Jefferson have been fast friends, but Alex, this is your show. Do you really want to miss this much?”

“Thomas needs someone with him. And I haven’t missed a show yet. I need a break.”

“You never like to take a break.”

In the end, Alexander managed to convince John that it was okay. Surprisingly, James even thanked him for taking Thomas to Virginia. “I don’t know how helpful I would have been if I had gone,” he explained. “I probably would have just gotten sick with traveling. I’m glad he’ll have you.”

Alexander was pretty sure that James still checked on Thomas daily after the news broke. The cast offered their condolences and Thomas had seemed kind of distracted for the past few days as he got the plane tickets together and kept in touch with his family.

“So,” Alexander said as he shifted in his plane seat. He was glad that Thomas let him have the aisle seat. He was so jittery that he probably would have to pace at one point, and he didn’t want to have to crawl over Thomas to get in and out. “Your family. Why don’t you tell me about them? I don’t know about your siblings or your mom, or—or anything.”

Thomas hummed and sat back in his seat. “There’s my older sister Mary. She was married a couple of years ago. I don’t know if she’ll be coming to the funeral.”

“Why not?”

“She and our father didn’t get along well. As she grew older, they fought on anything and it got to a point where she moved out of the house when she was sixteen and moved in with a friend of hers. I was fourteen at the time, and now I was suddenly the oldest in the house. There’s also Elizabeth and Martha, who are younger than me. Elizabeth by one year, Martha by three.”

Alexander laughed. “So at one point there were just all of you running around the house? You’re all so close in age.”

Thomas smiled. “We were surely a handful. I did a good job wrangling Elizabeth and Martha, though. My father decided that because I was the only boy, I was supposed to be the mature one and set a good example for everyone. It was really Mary who did that.”

“But four kids? That’s a lot. Family dinners must have been awful.”

“Mother always told me that she wanted ten children. That way she could make us all work on the farm.”

Alexander laughed again. “I’m sure child labor laws would have gotten her in trouble if she had an army of children working day in and out.” He settled again. Alexander had almost forgotten he was on a plane. “What are they like, then? If I’m not going to meet Mary, then how am I supposed to know what she’s like?”

“Well Mary is a lot like you. Loud, stubborn, and unable to hold her tongue. I can see the both of you getting into an argument of some sort, but you’d probably like her way more than you liked me.” Thomas smiled, clearly falling distracted into his own memories. “Elizabeth is quieter. She barely spoke a word growing up and a lot of people thought she was mute. But when she was alone with people she trusted, she spoke a thousand words a minute. She’s more open now, but she’s still shy around strangers. Martha is incredibly intelligent. She’s always picking up random facts and sharing them.”

“They all sound really nice.”

Thomas nodded, looking happy. Alexander liked it when he looked happy. “Yeah. They really are.”

Suddenly, the plane began to move, and Alexander’s relaxed state disappeared completely. He stiffened and squeezed Thomas’s hand so tightly that circulation was being cut off. The safety instructions began relaying over the speakers and Thomas put a free hand over their entwined hands.

“Relax,” Thomas said gently. “It’s perfectly safe.”

“If it’s perfectly safe then how come they have to play instructions all the time? You don’t have to read an instruction manual every time you get into a car.”

“Because there’s always someone like you, who’s flying for the first time. Be quiet and listen.”

Alexander did his best to listen while also remembering to breathe. The instructions were only freaking him out more. In case of a crash? Flotation devices? Oxygen masks? Alexander was pretty sure that he needed that oxygen mask already, and they weren’t even off the ground.

When the instructions ended, Thomas rubbed Alexander’s hand. “Takeoff is the worst part, and then everything is smooth sailing.”

That didn’t exactly make Alexander feel better. And just as he was beginning to get used to the plane moving, it began to pick up speed. A _lot_ of speed. Alexander closed his eyes and felt Thomas squeeze his hand. The plane tilted upward and Alexander’s stomach dropped to his feet. For a long moment, everything was terrifying and never-ending. Then, without Alexander realizing, the plane leveled out, his ears popped, and everything felt…okay.

“See?” Thomas said. “Everything’s fine. You can open your eyes now.”

Alexander slowly opened his eyes and glanced around. He still didn’t like it. He still didn’t want to be up in the air, which was so incredibly vulnerable no matter how reliable aerodynamics could be. But it did seem to be okay.

“Remind me to never get on a plane again,” Alexander mumbled.

Thomas laughed. “I think you’re forgetting about the flight back.” That earned a groan from Alexander. “For now, just concentrate on surviving in Virginia.”

Alexander looked up at him. “Do I have to be afraid of runaway tractors on your farm or something?”

“No, but the funeral is sure to be socially stifling. My family isn’t exactly the most open when it comes to emotions—if you couldn’t tell by how clearly emotionally stable and open I am—so the funeral probably isn’t going to be…normal, exactly.”

“Oh god, is it going to be like those movies where no one’s crying and everyone is just stone faced because they really don’t care about another death but they’re obligated to come anyway?”

Thomas snorted. “Maybe. It can be quite the tossup with my family.”

“That’s going to be too awkward for me. You better not leave me alone for a second.”

“I was going to tell you that.”

Alexander managed a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. It’s not like I would want to wander off in the foreign land of Virginia anyway.”

“I’m glad to hear it. It could be dangerous with all the runaway tractors.”

The rest of the plane ride was spent talking. Thomas talked about his life in Virginia, Alexander asked more about his siblings, and before they knew it, the plane ride was over. Alexander still didn’t enjoy the landing, as Thomas had failed to mention the jerk that would occur when the plane wheels touched the ground, but they had made it there in one piece. That’s what he cared about.

“So do we need to get a cab or something?” Alexander asked as they finally got off of the plane. If getting on was a mess, getting off was worse. Everyone had stood up and tried to grab their bags and get off all at once.

“My mother is picking us up, actually,” said Thomas as they headed towards the exit. “I should probably warn you about her.”

“What about her?”

Thomas cleared his throat and pulled out his phone to check where she was waiting. “She’s a bit. Demanding. Hard to mesh with. I just don’t want you to be surprised if she ends up being more…rough around the edges than you’re used to.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Thomas didn’t look quite convinced. They stepped out onto the street and Thomas glanced up from his phone to the street and back again.

“Thomas,” a loud but stern voice said. Thomas flinched and looked up, and Alexander looked too. A short woman with a sour, pinched face stood by a car, staring at them expectantly. Her hair was the spitting image of Thomas’s: unruly yet refined, big and demanding of attention. The similarities seemed to stop there, however, as none of her facial features resembled Thomas; and her height certainly didn’t either.

“Hello Mother,” Thomas greeted as they walked up. “This is Alexander, the man I told you I would be bringing with me.”

She looked Alexander over once and nodded. Alexander couldn’t tell if she approved of him or thought it was foolish of him to have come. Either way, it made him uncomfortable. She opened the trunk and Thomas put both of their suitcases inside. Alexander got into the back and Thomas went to get into the front but paused. Alexander could see that Thomas and his mother were talking, but they were outside the car so he couldn’t hear. Finally, Thomas came around and sat in the back with Alexander instead. Alexander gave him a raised eyebrow, but Thomas just shook his head.

Thomas’s mother got into the car, and they drove off, heading towards Monticello.


End file.
